Poor Howard

Poor Howard’s dead and gone, left me here to sing his song
Poor Howard’s dead and gone, left me here to sing his song

Poor Howard had a wife and she nagged him all his life
So he used his butcher knife—like I said he had a wife

Now poor Howard’s dead and gone…

They took Howard off to jail, wouldn’t let me go his bail,
They said if he is your friend, buy a lily for his hand

Poor Howard’s dead and gone…
When we laid his bones to rest we fulfilled his last request
He said buddies bury me far from her as I can be

Now poor Howard’s dead and gone…

His last words were ‘Friends, goodbye. Don’t you worry; don’t you cry.
I don’t mind this a gettin’ hung, at least I stopped her naggin’ tongue’

Now poor Howard’s dead and gone…