* Where do bad folks go when they die? They don't go to heaven where the angels fly
Go to a lake of fire and fry See 'em again 'til the Fourth of July
I knew a lady who came from Duluth Bitten by a dog with a rabid tooth
She went to her grave just a little too soon Flew away howling on the yellow moon
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People cry and people moan Look for a dry place to call their home
Try to find some place to rest their bones
While the angels and the devils try to make 'em their own
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