Father Paul's a gamblin man and he likes to sing the blues. He's a little kettle angry man cuz he's got nothing to do. He swings himself from side to side on the playground where he discovered pride He nearly snores himself to death every night. Father Paul's a sour man find him preaching on the streets. From the pulpit of the parking lot where the whiskey congress meets. They take their holy sacrament Father Paul doles out the punishment Fifty swigs, my good sir, to the sinner on the right. Father Paul's a family man or at least he used to be. He loved em but he left em all He was called to the sea. He kissed em each upon the head Said, count your blessings fore you go to bed. He took a drink, had a nice long think and he wept.