American Wheeze

                                  I've grown tired, of the words of the single man 

Hangin' lifeless on his every word, o man 

You don't understand dear man 

The little angel held out her hand 

Sayin' father, father I love you 

O praise Jesus I got her 

Ok yeah billy goat an we'll play farm 

I didn't mean to spirit stiff you 

Nor to do you no harm 

You say you've got a bone to pick 

Well, there's plenty showin' on me 

Come on up yeah bring your temper boy 

We'll see, we'll see 

Yeah you may be the only one come on son 

Bring your blade and your gun 

And if I die by your hand 

I've gotta home in glory land