| At mama’s funeral, organs didn’t play
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| But you could hear the lonesome sway
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| Of the local guitar man
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| He played Hank Williams songs
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| We all did 'Farther Along'
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| The boys drank beer out by the barn
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| At mama’s funeral
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| Oh the birds showed up to sing
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| As we gathered round the ole porch swing
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| Where her feet had worn the paint off the boards
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| And her pillow sat all faded and torn
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| Her children all took turns
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| Trying to find the words
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| Just wantin to say something right
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| Bout the best friend they’d found in life
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| And explain it to the nurses that came from the hospital
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| To mama’s funeral
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| It was surprising to me, thought it’d be as hard as it could be
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| But everybody took a little piece of pain
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| And they spread it round like summer rain
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| And it helped to ease the load
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| More than I could’ve known
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| At mama’s funeral
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| And my family made me proud
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| Cause when the cryin got loud
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| The laughter followed close behind
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| Daddy’d say «now don’t all remember the time…»
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| Tables set up all over the place
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| Covered with pictures, candles and lace
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| The Quik Sack stayed open late
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| Sold out of all their cups and paper plates
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| To the strangers that gathered up on the hill
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| For mama’s funeral
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| All the pretty flowers planted by her hands
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| Her guitar in a corner sittin on a stand
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| Nah nah nah nah… |