| InaBell is dead, Savior, and we pray that Thou wouldst give us the strength | 
| To lift her and carry her to her grave. | 
| InaBell is dead, and, Jesus, we’ll | 
| Never again hear her gravel-on-the-window voice, her tail-in-the-door | 
| Voice. | 
| We’ll never again see her goiter shake like an old apple in a | 
| Windstorm. | 
| InaBell is dead and gone home to Thee, oh Precious | 
| Lord. | 
| Welcome her with open arms and spread 'em wide. | 
| She’s dead, oh | 
| Precious Lamb, we’re sure of it this time. | 
| She went over in her kitchen | 
| With a thud, scattering her Chicken Surprise for her ill-tempered, little | 
| Pop-eyed, slobbering dog, who ate most of it. | 
| InaBell is dead and gone and | 
| Left us here to carry on and carry her big, fat, annoying ass out to the | 
| Grave and bury her deep so she won’t get up even in dreams to HOLLER HER | 
| INSANE SHIT AT US! | 
| THANK YOU, JESUS! | 
| THANK YOU, LORD, FOR TAKING | 
| INABELL! | 
| I bet she was hard to lift, even for Thee | 
| InaBell is dead. | 
| She killed her husband, poor old Pete. | 
| She screamed and | 
| Hollered him to death with her helium woodpecker voice, pulled at him and | 
| Yelled at him and hit him and screamed at him until he had fits and slapped | 
| His own face and talked in tongues (talks in tongues) at the dinner | 
| Table. | 
| OH, SWEET JESUS CHRIST! | 
| INABELL IS FINALLY | 
| DEAD! | 
| HALLELUJAH! | 
| HALLELUJAH AND AMEN! | 
| There’s a big sale on Tuesday. | 
| Big sale on Tuesday, who will buy her angry | 
| Purse, forty pounds of frozen pot pies? | 
| Who will buy her stiff hairnets | 
| For failed perms, her fly-speckled glasses? | 
| Who will buy her girdle that | 
| Didn’t? | 
| Who will buy her hippo bra, and her nylons that woulda fit | 
| Pylons? | 
| Hey! | 
| Who’llgivemeanickelwho’llgivemeadimewho’llgivemeanickelwho’llgivemeadime | 
| Who’ll give me sumpin' for this SHIT?! | 
| Who’ll buy the little plastic | 
| Church that used to light up, the busted pink hairdryer, and half a carton | 
| Of menthol cigarettes? | 
| Who will buy her cracked bowling ball and enough | 
| Knickknacks to sink the Titanic?! | 
| Who will buy her sidewalk made out of | 
| Storm doors and cardboard and a blown Pontiac full of sparrows and | 
| Saplings? | 
| Oh, who will buy? | 
| Who will buy? | 
| Step right up! | 
| Who will | 
| Buy? | 
| Who will buy? | 
| Who will buy? | 
| Put a big ol' stone on top of her that says, «InaBell finally shutup and | 
| Kicked the bucket!» | 
| Big sale on Tuesday |