Deacon Jones

Written by: Ronald Bingham

Outback of Blue Moons neighborhood grill and bar,

Sat deacon Jones old beat up car.

An old car he used that few people knew,

To help hide the fact that he was addicted to the Devil's Brew.

Then next day with a smiling face and blood shot eyes,

He greeted the congregation hoping no one there would be the wise.

A ruse he did so very well,

In his pretense from going straight to hell.

His Amen's all heard throughout the church,

As the preacher, preached from upon his perch.

All thought he was such an example for all,

But little they knew he was about to fall.

For through the door a new convert walked,

And Brother Jones suddenly balked.

For she was the cocktail waitress at the Blue Moon bar,

And she had ridden a many night in Brother Jones old car.

Brother Jones was trapped like a rat aboard a sinking ship,

Knowing his goose would be cooked if she opened her lip.

A cold, cold sweat ran from his wrinkled brow.

Wanting to leave but he didn't know how.

Preacher had an altar call and guess who was there for all to see,

Our good Brother Jones was the first one there to bend a knee.

Silently he prayed the Lord to forgive his sins,

With a footnote he said Lord get me out of this mess and I wont do it again.