Oh the little lady preacher from the Limestone Church I'll never forget her I guess
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She preached each Sunday morning on the local radio
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With a big black Bible and a snow white dress
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She was nineteen years of age and was developed to the fault
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But I will admit she knew the Bible well
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A little white lace hankie marked the text that she would use
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She breathed into that microphone and sent us all to Hell
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She had a guitar picker by the name of Luther Short
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A hairy legged soul lost out in sin
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She would turn and smile at Luther when the program would commence
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With a voice as sweet as angels' she would break out in a hymn
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I was pickin' for her too with what we called the doghouse bass
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I clung to every word that passed her lips
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She was down on booze and cigarettes and high on days to come
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And she'd punctuate the prophecy with movements of her hips
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[ piano ]
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The Lord knows how I loved her he was there each time she preached
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But old Luther took her home each Sunday morn
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Looking back I still recall the way it hurt my tender pride
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I longed to be a hero but they're made not born
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Sometimes old Luther showed up at the studio half tight
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And smoking was a thing he liked to do
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She never said a word to him but said a prayer for me
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I told her in a way that I've been praying for her too
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One Sunday her old man showed up and said that she was gone
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Said she and brother Luther had a call
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I can see me standin' in that studio that day
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I had to face the heartbreak unemployment and all
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I don't know where they are cause I ain't seen them people since
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Lord if I judge 'em let me give 'em lots of room
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I know Luther Short and he's a hard old boy to change
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And I've often sat and wondered who it was converted whom
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Little Lady Preacher
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Tom T. Hall |