His pulpits a corner on 19th and Main His grip on the gospel, his one claim to fame He hurls fire and brimstone at the cars passing by While he offers salvation from the Savior on high His khakis are tattered and he aint bathed in weeks His bouts with the bottle show up on his cheeks He looks like a scarecrow, a sight to behold But he works for the Shepherd, bringing lambs to the fold He points to the Bible he holds in his hands Says Im proof that the good Lord can save any man Son, it aint what youre driving or the clothes that you wear Material possessions wont matter up there Someday in heaven with the angels Ill sing And these rags that Im wearing will be fit for a king Hes fighting a fever but in spite of the chill He pulls up his collar and speaks of Gods will His body is weakened but his faith is still strong Hes filled with conviction for the mission hes on Cause a mansion is waiting, hell be homeless no more And his words will soon echo from that far distant shore You might also likeSon, it aint what youre driving or the clothes that you wear Material possessions wont matter up there Someday in heaven with the angels Ill sing And these rags that Im wearing will be fit for a king Someday in heaven with the angels Ill sing And these rags that Im wearing will be fit for a king
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