Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don´t go to heaven where the angels fly
They go down to the like of fire and fry
Won´t see them again till the fourth of July
I knew a lady who came from Duluth
She got bit by a dog whit a rabbit tooth
She went to have grave just a litlle too soon
Ans she flew away howling on the yelow moon
Now the people cry and the people moan
And they look for a dry place to call their home
And try to find some places to rest their bones
while the angels and the devils
fight to claim them for their own
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