Tuesday, July 21, 2009

The Journal of Cotton Adams #15


August 11, 1739

One who had adorned the Gospel in life and in death, the deacon Vernon Smeengy, having desired that I should preach his funeral sermon, had instructions waiting by the way of a sealed letter. I went with a few friends to the house, which was filled with well nigh two hundred or more, and sang the song he had requested. As his body lie in peaceful repose, the church band, which consisted of fife, drum and upright bass started to play. They were there to accompany me as I sang this upbeat, finger-snapping, foot-stomping number. He desired to see it published and had me promise to record them for all to see. A man of my word, here are the words to his death song:

This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and shelter as we fought the storms of life
This old house once rang with laughter
This old house heard many shouts
Now she trembles in the darkness when the lightnin' walks about

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

This old house is getting shaky
This old house is getting old
This old house lets in the rain and
This old house lets in the cold
On my knees I'm getting chilly
But I feel no fear or pain
'Cause I see an angel peeking through
A broken window pane

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

Now my old hound dog lies asleeping
He don't know I'm gonna leave
Else he'd wake up by the fireplace
And he'd sit there, howl and grieve
But my hunting days are over
I ain't gonna hunt the 'coon no more
Gabriel done brought in chariot
When the wind blew down the door

Ain't gonna need this house no longer
Ain't gonna need this house no more
Ain't got time to fix the shingles
Ain't got time to fix the floor
Ain't got time to oil the hinges
Nor to mend the window pane
Ain't gonna need this house no longer
I'm getting ready to meet the saints

At the close of my sermon I asked, "If there be anyone here who knows any reason why this man should not be buried today, let them speak now or forever hold their peace."
We buried him, as per his request, in a casket shaped like the Ark of the Covenant.

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