Oh, my son
Heed these words
My father never shared them with his own
Take this bread
Drink this wine
Let the blood run down your throat and up your spine
There's a ghost
On my lips
She gives me wisdom
To guide your steps
If I had been
A godly man
It could have spared your mother
From my drunken hands
And as we dig
Her casket's bed
Oh think upon my sins for which she paid
There's a ghost
Upon my lips
She gives me wisdom
To guide your steps
Oh, my son
Heed these words
My father never shared them with his own