[Intro: one dirty slide guitar lick, a stomp, the choir hums "amen"] [Hook: gravel old male lead, the church choir shouts the parentheses] Keep it dry! (Amen!) Keep it bone dry! (Amen!) Preacher wants your soul, and I want your Saturday night I paid for the signs. He blessed 'em. Choir got brand-new robes Keep it dry! (Amen!) Every sinner in this county drives my back road [Verse 1: gravel, grinnin', slow drawl over the stomp] Forty years out the back of a bait shop, nightcrawlers up front by the door White lightnin' under the crickets in the cooler, and they always come back for more Half this damn county's Christmas came out of my trunk. Sheriff buys it by the case Then city boys with a clipboard got a vote on the ballot: liquor store off the ramp That's my retirement, brother. That's my grandbaby's braces. That's the oil in my lamp [Flow switch: double-time, the deal, then the receipts, the choir shouts every "paid!"] Drove to the church on a Tuesday with a ham, a check, and a grin on my face Reverend Toll looked at the check, looked at the ham, said, "Brother, let's talk about grace" Yard signs (paid!), church van to the polls (paid!), robes in purple and gold (paid!) Billboard on the bypass, "Don't Let the Devil Move In" (paid!), fish fry for the old (paid!) [Hook] Keep it dry! (Amen!) Keep it bone dry! (Amen!) Preacher wants your soul, and I want your Saturday night I paid for the signs. He blessed 'em. Choir got brand-new robes Keep it dry! (Amen!) Every sinner in this county drives my back road [Verse 2: booming preacher, male rapper, full verse] Brothers and sisters, the bottle's a serpent. But the Lord works in mysterious ways Some of His ways got a tarp and a trunk and a tag from two counties away Eleventh commandment, deacon: "Thou shalt not sell it legal." Margin of my Bible, in pencil Cleave can't spell it, but he paid for the paint. Cleave paid for the stencil So vote dry Tuesday. Sin on Saturday. Sunday, I'll be waitin' with the plate The Lord got a plan, and the plan got a partner, and the partner got a truck at the gate [Beat Switch: election night, drums drop to slide guitar and the clerk readin' the count, then the stomp and choir slam back] Courthouse steps, nine p.m., clerk on a mic, and the whole town holdin' its breath "Against, four thousand one seventeen." Dry by eleven. Choir hollered like they beat death Eleven widows in my bait shop truck. Every one with a hymn and a pint for luck [Verse 3: gravel lead, double-time, cocky] Midnight, line at the bait shop, headlights back to the bridge First in line? The deacons, hats in hand, and a wink at the fridge He got Sunday. I got Saturday. Monday through Friday, y'all sweat it out on your own Between the two of us, this whole county's covered. Keep it dry. Keep it holy. Keep it home [Final Hook: the whole choir, the stomp] Keep it dry! (Amen!) Keep it bone dry! (Amen!) Preacher wants your soul, and I want your Saturday night I paid for the signs. He blessed 'em. Choir got brand-new robes Keep it dry! (Amen!) Every sinner in this county drives my back road [Outro: the choir sings one long "amen," the slide guitar bends, cut] [End]
