Oh, my son Heed these words My father never shared them with his own Take this bread Drink this wine Let the blood run down your throat and up your spine
There's a ghost On my lips She gives me wisdom To guide your steps
If I had been A godly man It could have spared your mother From my drunken hands And as we dig Her casket's bed Oh think upon my sins for which she paid
There's a ghost Upon my lips She gives me wisdom To guide your steps
Oh, my son Heed these words My father never shared them with his own
