I knew a lady who came from Duluth.
Bit by a dog with a rabid tooth.
She went to her grave just a little too soon.
Flew and laid down on the yellow moon.

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 4th of July.

People cry and people moan.
Look for a dry place to call their home.
Try to find a place to rest their bones.
While the Angels and the Devils try to make their own.

Where do bad folks go when thy die.
They don't go to Heaven where the Angels fly.
Go to a Lake of Fire and fry.
See em' again til' the 4th of July.

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