I would rather be buried in some cypress grove
I would rather be buried in some cypress grove
Then have a contrary woman, Lord, that I can't control

When your kneebone get shaky, honey, and your blood run cold
When your kneebone gettin' shaky, Lord, and your blood run cold
Oh, you're gettin' ready, honey, for the cypress grove

Lord, I'd rather be buried six feet in the clay
I would rather to be buried six feet in the clay
Then to stay round here breathin' this a-way

I would drink muddy water, sleep in a hollow log
I would drink muddy water, sleep in a hollow log
Then to lay around here treated like a dog

I'm gonna sing this song, ain't gonna sing no more
I'm gonna sing this song, ain't gonna sing no more
My time is getting precious, honey, and I got to go