The Little Lady Preacher

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Oh the little lady preacher from the
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Limestone
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Church
I'll never forget her I
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guess
She
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preached each Sunday morning on
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the local rad
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io
With a big black Bible and
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a snow white
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dress

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She was
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nineteen years of age and was
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developed to a fault
But I will admit she knew the Bible
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well
A
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little white lace hankie marked the
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text that she would use
She´d breathe into that microphone and
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send us all to
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hell

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She had a guitar picker by the
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name of Luther
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Short
A hairy legged soul lost out in
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sin
She would
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turn and smile at Luther when the
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program would
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commence
With a voice as sweet as angels' she would
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break out in a
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hymn

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I was
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picking for her too with what we
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called the doghouse bass
I clung to every word that passed her
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lips
She
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was down on booze and cigarettes and
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high on days to come
And she'd punctuate the prophecy with
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movements of her
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hips

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The Lord knows how I loved her he was
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there each time she
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preached
But old Luther took her home each Sunday
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morn
Looking
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back I still recall the way it
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hurt my tender
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pride
I longed to be a hero but they're
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made not
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born

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Some
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times old Luther showed up at the
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studio half tight
And smoking was a thing he liked to
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do
She
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never said a word to him but
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said a prayer for me
I told her in a way that I've been
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praying for her
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too

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One Sunday her old man showed up and
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said that she was
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gone
Said she and brother Luther had a
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call
I
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can see me standing in that
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studio that
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day
I had to face the heartbreak unem
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ployment and
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all

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I
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don't know where they are cause I
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ain't seen them people since
Lord if I judge 'em let me give 'em lots of
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room
I
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know Luther Short and he's a
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hard old boy to change
And I've often sat and wondered who it
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was converted
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who

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