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Where do bad folks go when they die? |
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They don't go to heaven where the angels fly |
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They go down to the lake of fire and fry |
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Won't see them again till the fourth of July |
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I knew a lady who came from Duluth |
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She got bit by a dog with a rabid tooth |
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She went to her grave just a little too soon |
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And she flew away howling on the yellow moon |
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Where do bad folks go when they die? |
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They don't go to heaven where the angels fly |
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They go down to the lake of fire and fry |
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Won't see them again till the fourth of July |
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Now the people cry and the people moan |
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And they look for a dry place to call their home |
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And try to find some place to rest their bones |
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While the angels and the devils |
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Fight to claim them for their own |
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Where do bad folks go when they die? |
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They don't go to heaven where the angels fly |
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They go down to the lake of fire and fry |
