I HEAR I 've got to preach tomorrer,

Our pastor he be orful ill ;
An Deacon Smith, I larn with sorrer,

His lung it be a bleedin still.
I Ve prayed at funerals an sich,
An at camp meetings tuk a hitch,

But still I never preached before ;

If any party yells ' angcore,'

By the holy Mos scuse me !

At ligion I make no pretext,
A never went a seekin lambs ;

I haint achose no reglar text,

I '11 kinder ramble round the psalms.