His pulpit's a corner On 19th and Main His grip on the gospel His one claim to fame He hurls fire and brrimstone At the cars passing by And he offers salvation For the savior on high His khakis are tattered And he aint bathed in weeks His bout with the bottle Shows up on his cheeks He looks like a scarecrow A sight to behold As he works for the shepherd Bringin 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 (chorus) Son, it aint what youre driving Or the clothes that you wear Material possessions Wont matter up there And someday in heaven When the angels all sing These rags that Im wearin Will be fit for a king Hes fighting a fever In spite of the chill He pulls up his collar And he speaks of Gods will His body is weakend But his faith is sitll strong For hes filled with conviction For the mission he's on He knows soon in heaven Hell be homeless no more As his work will soon echo From that far distant shore (chours) And someday in heaven When the angels all sing These rags that I'm wearin' Will be fit for a king And someday in heaven When the angels all sing These rags that I'm wearin' Will be fit for a king