Corb Lund Follow

You know he never did marry, faith took all his energies
Was a celibate preacher for thirty two good seasons
At Hazelwood Hamlet's single room one and only house of worship in the trees
She was a beauty of body in only fifteen years
He made his lessons in virtue a little too clear
On Sunday afternoons, off by themselves in the meadow just outside of town

Did he misappropriate a kiss or was he really just a dedicated teacher?
Before we can judge him, remember that we're all the same, ay, ay
The details are fuzzy and that nothin's ever as it seems
In the case of the wine soaked preacher

She tried to fight her way to shore but never learned to swim
Her lungs filled up with water, she eddied down the stream
Face down, on up around the bend where that old current's at its worst
And with the unborn baby of unknown sire
There were two dead in the water, but really three died
If you count the preacher's will but man, you gotta admit it sure did solve his problems

Did he drown her in the river/or did she slip and did he really try to reach her?

Was it a little more venom, a bit less grace?
Or a lot more fire and a little less chaste?
Well I don't know exactly what it was, but the sermons were never quite the same after that, I'll tell ya
He died alone and anonymous, and that's a fitting fate
For an undiscovered diddler, but a terrible waste
Of an innocent man, and no one really knows for sure about that but him and he ain't talking

Was he evil and a drunk or just another one of God's poor creatures?

Did he misappropriate a kiss or was he really just a dedicated teacher?
Did he drown her in the river/or did she slip and did he really try to reach her?
Was he evil and a drunk or just another one of God's poor creatures?

God's poor creatures
Lacking features
In the bleachers
With we beseechers