Well, Frankie Lee, he sat right
down
And put his fingers to his
chin,
But with the cold eyes of
Judas on him,
His head began to spin.
"Would ya please not stare
at me like that," he said,
"It's just my foolish pride,
But sometimes a man must be
alone
And this is no place to hide."
Well, Judas, he just winked
and said,
"All right, I'll leave you
here,
But you'd better hurry up
and choose
Which of those bills you want,
Before they all disappear."
"I'm gonna start my pickin'
right now,
Just tell me where you'll
be."
Judas pointed down the road
And said, "Eternity!"
"Eternity?" said Frankie Lee,
With a voice as cold as ice.
"That's right," said Judas
Priest, "Eternity,
Though you might call it 'Paradise.'"
"I don't call it anything,"
Said Frankie Lee with a smile.
"All right," said Judas Priest,
"I'll see you after a while."
Well, Frankie Lee, he sat back
down,
Feelin' low and mean,
When just then a passing stranger
Burst upon the scene,
Saying, "Are you Frankie Lee,
the gambler,
Whose father is deceased?
Well, if you are,
There's a fellow callin' you
down the road
And they say his name is Priest."
"Oh, yes, he is my friend,"
Said Frankie Lee in fright,
"I do recall him very well,
In fact, he just left my sight."
"Yes, that's the one," said
the stranger,
As quiet as a mouse,
"Well, my message is, he's
down the road,
Stranded in a house."
Well, Frankie Lee, he panicked,
He dropped ev'rything and
ran
Until he came up to the spot
Where Judas Priest did stand.
"What kind of house is this,"
he said,
"Where I have come to roam?"
"It's not a house," said Judas
Priest,
"It's not a house . . . it's
a home."
Well, Frankie Lee, he trembled,
He soon lost all control
Over ev'rything which he had
made
While the mission bells did
toll.
He just stood there staring
At that big house as bright
as any sun,
With four and twenty windows
And a woman's face in ev'ry
one.
Well, up the stairs ran Frankie
Lee
With a soulful, bounding leap,
And, foaming at the mouth,
He began to make his midnight
creep.
For sixteen nights and days
he raved,
But on the seventeenth he
burst
Into the arms of Judas Priest,
Which is where he died of
thirst.
No one tried to say a thing
When they took him out in
jest,
Except, of course, the little
neighbor boy
Who carried him to rest.
And he just walked along,
alone,
With his guilt so well concealed,
And muttered underneath his
breath,
"Nothing is revealed."
Well, the moral of the story,
The moral of this song,
Is simply that one should
never be
Where one does not belong.
So when you see your neighbor
carryin' somethin',
Help him with his load,
And don't go mistaking Paradise
For that home across the road
Marco Giunco |
Work | Basket | Music | Words |