Arizona republican. [volume] (Phoenix, Ariz.) 1890-1930, 1902-02-02
PARSON BILLS FALL.

I'm inclined to say in. protestin' way.
an in fo'cible mountain style,
That religion an politics won't mix no
more than water an lie.
That when a pretendin' man o. God
SHES off from the pious track
An lopes along the political trail his
religion is out o. wheck.
He may yit hang onto a pious face an
walk with pious tread,
An over the altar may humbly bow
his ministerial head,
But the devil has got a quit-claim deed
on the man that'll try to sneak
Around with pious Sunday mask an
a bare face durin' the week.
Thar was Purson 1lil Of the Upper
Fork. II man that fur years had
stood
An served the camp in q plrasin' way
with the choicest of gospel food;
A meek-faced man with Il heart we
thought was fit fur an angels
breast,
An 2 soul as pure as the soul of n babe
asleep in it's cradle nest.
He was allus n workin' among the poor,
an I've noticed the teardrops flow
From his Christian eyes when he'd
strike a case o." misery, want an
woe,
An ofn thought if thar was hea-
ven whar' the Master d take His
own
Our Parson Bill d hold down seat al
mighty close to the throne.
He preached to us in the early days
when the camp war an earthly hell,
Whar' the sound of ribaldry of'n
drowned the chimes OF the Sabbath
Whar' the six-times gun war the ru!in'
power. an the law war the half
inch rope.
An the inspira ton that men drunk in
war the wust o. tanglefoot dope.
But the boys turned out mighty free to
hear what the parson d have to
say,
An they sot an listened to gospel talk
in quiet an laublike way.
An when the hat come saiiin' 'Toand
, from out o their finger tips
You'd see 'em n droppin' a hefty show
or o. par-value poker chips.
He said one day that he'd had Il call
from the voice o the blessed Lord
To go to the city wnar' sin war rife an
swing the redeemin' sword,
An tough oil cusses that reeked with
sin bruk down at the time to part
With every symptom that pinted
straight a [ hemorrhaSe O the heart.
The camp turned out fur to see him OF
an to give him a partin' shake
An I'll never forgit one pat remark
from the lips of oil Monte Jake:
The Lord II jest shet us out o the
game. II close an II lock the gate.
Scnce the bossest agent He's got on
ha n
freight
tell you. pardner. it bruk us up when
we hecrd jest the other day
re had jumped the track an war
standin' in with the devil in open
play,
War usin' his piety as Z cloak to hide
his dishonest tricks
That'd rank as crimes outside o the
field o. municipal politics.
War n wearin the gospel as mask to
betray his coniidia' friends.
An war stoopin to schemes o the
meanest brand to accomplish his
greedy ends.
War a workin' hard fur to snatch the
bread from the mouths o the poor.
the same
That he oft baptized with his heart
pumped tears when he sot in the
preacher game
That's why I say in reSretful way, an
in fo'cible mountain style,
That religious water II never mix with
the tainted political lie
That when 4 pretendin' man o God
SHES off q the pious track
His religion II never stand assay; his
morality's out o. whack.
He may preach as long an may pray
as loud as he did when his heart
war clean.
But it's all lip talk, an the Lord don't
tie to no automatic machine,
An he's Goin' to find when the trumpet
sounds to awaken us var below
That he CANT step out o. the black
sheep fold with wool that's as white
as snow.