Five for the gospel preachers Four for the four who stood by the door Three for the Hebrew children Two for the Paul and Silas One for the itty bitty baby Born, born, born in Bethlehem
"Children, Go Where I Send Thee" I've heard other lyrics for five, but that's one I heard on the radio.
That nice young preacher Brother Taylor dropped by today Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday, oh by the way He said he saw a girl looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge And she and Billie Joe was throwing something off the Tallahatchie bridge
I was born in the wagon of a travelling show, My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw. Papa would do whatever he could, Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Dr. Good.
10 comments:
Can't concentrate on the preacher preaching, my attention span done turned off.
Daddy's Money
Ricochet
Not exactly "preach" but it's got two other forms of the word...
Papa, don't preach
I'm in trouble deep
Papa, don't preach
I've been losing sleep
But I've made up my mind
I'm keeping my baby
Madonna
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
I'm preaching this sermon to show
It ain't nessa
Ain't nessa
Ain't nessa
Ain't nessa
Ain't necessarily so!
(G. Gershwin/I. Gershwin/DuBose Heyward, from "Porgy and Bess")
On his funeral morning
I heard the preacher say
"I hope we'll all meet Utah
At the roundup far away."
"Utah Carrol"
Five for the gospel preachers
Four for the four who stood by the door
Three for the Hebrew children
Two for the Paul and Silas
One for the itty bitty baby
Born, born, born in Bethlehem
"Children, Go Where I Send Thee"
I've heard other lyrics for five, but that's one I heard on the radio.
That nice young preacher Brother Taylor dropped by today
Said he'd be pleased to have dinner on Sunday, oh by the way
He said he saw a girl looked a lot like you up on Choctaw Ridge
And she and Billie Joe was throwing something off the Tallahatchie bridge
Ode to Billie Joe
Bobbie Gentry sang it
She weighed a hundred and eighty
And her hair was red
She preached a wicked sermon,
So the papers all said
"Aimee McPherson"
You know the preacher likes the cold
He knows I'm gonna stay
California Dreaming
The Mamas and the Papas
I was born in the wagon of a travelling show,
My mama used to dance for the money they'd throw.
Papa would do whatever he could,
Preach a little gospel, sell a couple bottles of Dr. Good.
"Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves", Cher
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