The Ballad of the Forty Dollars

Written and recorded by Tom T. Hall
The man who preached the funeral
Said it really was a simple way to die
He laid down to rest one afternoon
And never opened up his eyes


They hired me and Fred and Joe
To dig the grave and carry up some chairs
It took us seven hours
And I guess we must have drunk a case of beer


I guess I ought to go and watch them put 'em down
But I don't own a suit
And anyway when they start talking about
The fire in hell well I get spooked


So I'll just sit here in my truck
And act like I don't know 'em when they pass
Anyway when they're all through
I've got to go to work and mow the grass


Well here they come and who's that
Riding in that big ole shiny limousine
Mmh look at all that chrome I do believe
That that's the sharpest thing I've seen


That must belong to his great uncle
Someone said he owned a big ole farm
When they get parked I'll mosey down
And look it over that won't do no harm


Well that must be the widow in the car
And would you take a look at that
That sure is a pretty dress
You know some women do look good in black


Well he's not even in the ground
And they say that his truck is up for sale
They say she took it pretty hard
But you can't tell too much behind the veil


Well listen ain't that pretty
When the bugler plays the Military taps
I think that when you was in the war
They always hide and play a song like that


Well here I am and there they go
And I guess you'd just call it my bad luck
I hope he rests in peace the trouble is
The fellow owes me forty bucks