I can still recall the day my Uncle Chester caught religion.
The Reverend took him swimming,
and the devil must have drowned.
Uncle Chester, he was big.
He was mean and even vicious.
But he didn't stand a chance against the lawman,
Reverend Brown.
The lawman,
Reverend Brown,
was the sheriff of Pitkin County.
His hair was long and black
like the dusty suit he wore.
In the pockets of his coat were the tools of his professions,
a tattered old black Bible and a loaded .44.
And all across the mountain you could hear
the children singing about the peace down
in the valley like there never was before.
The Reverend had a special way for healing wicked sinners.
He only had to shoot a few
to save a whole lot more.
I
don't know where he came from,
but I do know where he's gone.
He's gone to meet his
maker and to guard the master's throne and
to keep a home fire burning for the ones lost
in the night,
the kind of fire he lit in me to help me see the light.
And all across the mountain you could hear
the children singing about the peace down
in the valley like there never was before.
The Reverend had a special way for healing
wicked sinners.
He only had to shoot a few to save a whole lot more.
The lawman helped the Reverend when he taught the old time gospel.
It was heaven.
It was prison.
Or the loaded .44.
And all across the mountain you could hear
the children singing about the peace down
in the valley like there never was before.
The Reverend had a special way for healing
wicked sinners.
He only had to shoot a few to save a whole lot more.