Where do bad folks go when they die? They don't go to heaven where the angels fly They go down to the lake of fire and fry
Won't see 'em again till the fourth of july
I knew a lady who came from duluth She got bit by a dog with a rabid tooth She went to her grave just a little too soon And she flew away howling on the yellow moon
[Repeat Chorus]
Now the people cry and the people moan And they look for a dry place to call their home And try to find some place to rest their bones While the angels and the devils Fight to claim them for their own
