Talking Blues by Christopher Allan Bouchillon Lyrics

If you want to get to heaven, let me tell you what to do
You gotta grease your feet in a little mutton stew
Slide right out of the devil's hand
And ease over to the Promised Land
Take it easy! Go greasy!

I was down in the holler just a'settin' on a log
My finger on the trigger and my eye on a hog;
I pulled that trigger and the gun went "zip"
And I grabbed that hog with all of my grip
'Course l can't eat hog eyes, but I love chitlins

Down in the hen house on my knees
I thought I heard a chicken sneeze
But it was only the rooster sayin' his prayers
Thankin' the Lord for the hens upstairs
Rooster prayin', hens a-layin'

Pore little pullets just pluggin' away best they know how
Mama's in the kitchen fixin' the yeast
Poppa's in the bedroom greasin' his feets
Sister's in the cellar squeezin' up the hops
Brother's at the window just a-watchin' for the cops
Drinkin' home brew-makes you happy
Now, I'm just a city dude a-livin' out of town
Everybody knows me as Moonshine Brown;
I make the beer, and I drink the slop
Got nine little orphans that call me Pop
I'm patriotic... Raisin' soldiers. Red cross nurses

Ain't no use me workin' so hard
I got a gal in the rich folks' yard
They kill a chicken, she sends me the head
She thinks I'm workin', I'm a-layin' up in bed
Just dreamin' about her. Havin' a good time. ..
Two other women