Fair Lily and the Folk Singer

“One day while I was real depressed
I could not even sing.
I thought about the girl I loved, and
bought her a diamond ring.

I sent a package thirty miles
to East Somerset.
Looked at the clock. In one day's time
her package she will get.”


The next day in East Somerset,
where Lily did reside,
She heard a knock upon her door.
A package has arrived.

She moved her hair from her eyes,
while she untied the string.
She was startled by a blinding glow,
of a 3-inch diamond ring.

Her sister came into the room,
after hearing Lily's gasp.
“Who sent you such a lovely ring?
You know I have to ask.

Was it Peter, Frank, or Joe?
Or Willie Connelly?
Or is it from that soldier boy,
from Knoxville, Tennessee?”

“No, it isn't Peter, Frank, or Joe
or anyone like that.
It's from that no-good singin' drunk,
Jim Jehoshaphat.”

“Fat ol' Jim Jehoshaphat?
Who left on your wedding day?
He left town but in the morning,
returned for his pay.”

“Yes, that's the one, I must admit.
Now he lives in reclusion.
Drinking and singing from dawn till dusk
is his only solution.”

“But how could a man so underpaid,
afford such a pretty ring?”
“My sweet sister, I do not know,
but it does not mean a thing.

Since he must haunt me a taunt me
and tease me and vex,
I shall call unto the netherworld
for to cast on him a hex!

Obollo Shee, Karink Karink
Karink Obollo Don,
Fat Ol' Jim Jehoshaphat,
for you this hex is on.

May you feel an deep unholy burden
bellow deep down in your mind.
May your mouth fill up with dirt and sand
when you attempt to rhyme.

May when you drink a drop of whiskey,
gin, vodka, or champagne:
May your ears tickle and your nostrils flare,
until you're hopelessly deranged.

Don't call my name, Jim Jehoshaphat,
you're time isn't very long.
I hope you find time before the coming pain
to sing one last song.”

“My baby put a hex on me,
Demons are talking to me,
I sent the girl I love a diamond ring
and now I c-c-c-c-a-a-n't s-s-s-s-s-i-ing

I got another bottle of whiskey
one of gin, of rum, and schnapps.
But I can't tap into my liquor case,
for it's Hell to drink a d-d-d-r-r-op.

Oh my dear, Lily, this song's for you.
I have tried not to write a rhyming word.
It might be hard not to drink whiskey.
Might be hard not to drink rum.
But there's one thing you've overlooked
So long as I've got my guitar I can-
I can-
I can-
I can s-s-s-s-s-t-t-r-u-m.”