Hall Tom T: Little lady preacher

Oh the little lady preacher from the Limestone Church I'll never forget her I guessShe preached each Sunday morning on the local radioWith a big black Bible and a snow white dressShe was nineteen years of age and was developed to the faultBut I will admit she knew the Bible wellA little white lace hankie marked the text that she would useShe breathed into that microphone and sent us all to HellShe had a guitar picker by the name of Luther ShortA hairy legged soul lost out in sinShe would turn and smile at Luther when the program would commenceWith a voice as sweet as angels' she would break out in a hymnI was pickin' for her too with what we called the doghouse bassI clung to every word that passed her lipsShe was down on booze and cigarettes and high on days to comeAnd she'd punctuate the prophecy with movements of her hips[ piano ]The Lord knows how I loved her he was there each time she preachedBut old Luther took her home each Sunday mornLooking back I still recall the way it hurt my tender prideI longed to be a hero but they're made not bornSometimes old Luther showed up at the studio half tightAnd smoking was a thing he liked to doShe never said a word to him but said a prayer for meI told her in a way that I've been praying for her tooOne Sunday her old man showed up and said that she was goneSaid she and brother Luther had a callI can see me standin' in that studio that dayI had to face the heartbreak unemployment and allI don't know where they are cause I ain't seen them people sinceLord if I judge 'em let me give 'em lots of roomI know Luther Short and he's a hard old boy to changeAnd I've often sat and wondered who it was converted whom