“If’n I Die Tomorra”
by Nate Marshall

If’n I die tomorra dig a hole and bury me
somewhere in the fields ‘neath the shade of a chestnut tree.
All I ask is a simple stone and an epitaph that reads:
“Here lies an honest man, all except in word and deed.”

If’n I die tomorra, call up every one you know.
Tell them some great hero’s past, gone down that final road. 
Hire fifteen fair young maidens to weep so recklessly,
blue ribbons, silver, and roses- and one bombastic eulogy.

If’n I die tomorra, broadcast it on the radio.
Say “oh he was a modest man, and he just wanted everyone to know
he gave generously to charity, yes sir, he gave in full
long as the charity was tax deductible.”

And if’n I die tomorra, woman then you’ll see;
you’ll be sorry for all the wrong you know you’ve done to me.
I can see you in your black dress weeping on your knee;
if you knew I’d die tomorra, then maybe now you’d get with me.

Lord, if’n I must die tomorra, just leave the sunshine in my eyes.
Let me waltz upon the horizon, hand careless swatting flies,
with angel voices supporting me in eight-part harmony.
O I’d fold every card tomorra if’n I could die so happily. (oo, yes)

(…Ladies and gentlemen, Stan and Trashcan Dan…)
(woo-hoo, oh Nellie, giddyup-giddyup-giddyup, git the moonshine…)
(…hoo-dog.)