Preacher Needs Rehab

When preacher takes a pulpit, it's past 10:30. His hair's unwashed and his nails

are dirty. He's drownin' out the choir with his nasty smoker's cough.

And he cuts 'em all a look like they better knock it off.

He spent last night in the county jail. We had to pass the plate

to make his bail. Oh, where did we all fail?

Our preacher needs rehab. He'd been on the wagon since the last convention.

Now, the deacons are plannin' for another intervention. Seems they caught

him skinny-dippin' in the baptism pool. We were talkin' all about it during Sunday school.