On my way, Thursday, from the Y I heard it in the car
Bob Edwards broke the news tonight, yes he of NPR
Driving through Montgomery I hung my head and cried
Then visited Hank Williams grave the day Fred Rodgers died

Zelda Sayre, F. Scott Fitzgerald lived somewhere in this old town
Nat King Cole was born here; Rosa Parks stayed sitting down
Black and white, death, booze and music, genius, courage, kindness, pride
I felt them all around me there the day Fred Rodgers died

And we mocked King Friday the thirteenth on Saturday night Live
But once I started crying it was pretty hard to drive
On New Year's day Hank slipped away slumped over in the back
Oh I hope he had his cardigan on in that Cadillac

When you look out from the hilltops you can see confederate graves
And the railroad runs by the river it carries cotton, soldiers, slaves
Hank's real name was Hiram we all could feel his pain
And Fred McFeely Rodgers knew how to talk to a train

How we mocked King Friday the thirteenth on Saturday night Live
But once I started crying it was pretty hard to drive

Driving through Montgomery I hung my head and cried
Then visited Hank Williams grave the day Fred Rodgers died
I visited Hank Williams grave when Mr. Rodgers died