This old hearse once carried people
Those dead people that kid sees
In an oaken box with handles
Chilled out from some big deep freeze
This old hearse is a branded Lincoln
Has a buddy, Cadillac
Not as shiny as it once was
Kind'a scratched and dingy black...

No one's gonna ride this hearse no longer
No one's gonna ride this hearse no more
Mileage meter's scored in thousands,
Squeaky is that old rear door
It could sure tell a lot of stories
That would scare ya', make ya' faint
In the back's a line of worn out rollers
You can't even see yourself in the paint...

This old hearse they should sell to hippies
Those still danglin' in the past
Transports buds and leaves of green
Sometimes known as Woodstock grass
Once I knew a dude who owned one
Big ol' green long Cadillac
When he bought a laundry washer
Rolled that sucker in the back...

This old crate is a hearse no longer
These old wheels roll a hearse no more
Hauled cadavers by the thousands
Rich and middle class, and poor..
Was that final equalizer
Same for sinner, as for saint
Don't eyeball the carpet up too closely,,
Might find old dentures, or DN-A-in't

This old hearse is a' kind a' spooky,
Pungent odor that remains
Whiffs from past embalming fluids,
And hints of wilted rose refrains
It's sad carry days are over
Parked in a used car parking lot
What's left of a Gabriel chariot
Old and dusty, left to rot..

No one really wants this hearse no longer,
No one really needs this hearse no more
All banged up with bumps and scratches,
Mirror's broken on the door
People drive by and stare with cringes
As if it held some kind of curse
Maybe for the wife, I ought'a buy it,
Park it by my car, mark His and Hearse

Maybe for the wife, I just might buy it,
Park it by my car, mark His and Hearse