The parson's foxy lady, Rose
was in my bed without no clo'es.

He did not turn the other cheek
he was not mild, nor was he meek
he sprang with hoarse blood curdling shriek

"But Parson! Listen! Mercy! Wait!"
"Just one more for The Pearly Gate."

They planted me high on the hill
where nights are black and wind is chill

And when Rose got a moment free
she'd sneak and place a rose on me,
until the preacher chanced to see.

"But Honey! Mercy! Listen! Wait!"
"Another for the Pearly Gate."