When I was a kid we went to the little white tabernacle out past the River Briar

And we had ourselves a fine Pastor Curtis that would set that little House o' God afire

Well he'd shout to heaven an' he'd shout to hell and he'd-a point to the rafters and start to sing

He lit up that little combo band and oh how that little white chapel'd swing

He jumped and shouted and stood on his head giving Lord Jesus his due praise

We were swooned and spelled, gladly beholden to everything he says

Then come one stormy Sunday with a sky full of thunderclouds, and the preacher preachin' right from wrong

When who should enter via lightning boat the ugliest, foulest, most funky-foul ten foot tall hog

He said behind a thunderclap, "I bid you good evening Pastor Curtis, and I bring an invitation,

"For you to join the First Church of Pig, and bring along this fine congregation."

Oh now that got the pastor fussing and fuming, but that ain't what broke the straw

The rotten creature spat on him-spat on him-spat on him a big, juicy line of tobacco chaw

Pastor Curtis drew up to his full height and pulled down that pig and looked him in the eye

And said, "I say in the name of the Father, Spirit, and Holy Jesus Christ, I cast thee from my sight!"

He put that pig in a nasty headlock and drug him across the floor

Through the aisle of praising pews, threw him kickin' and screamin' out the door

It landed hard on the gravel drive and pastor rolled up his arms and said, "Ain't done with you yet!"

All of us praised He on High, and if that pig'd had the appropriate glands he'd've started to sweat

Pastor gave pig a fierce wallop and it took it tough, grinning the devil's grin

He leapt upon the beast's back and yanked straight that curly tail, and decried his earthly sin.

The pig took off running down the hill, laughing wickedness into the night

With Pastor Curtis riding astride, on down the holler to continue fightin the good fight

And that's when the rain commences to fall in sheets, like the Lord had poured on us a glass of ocean

We ran on down the hill slipping in the mud and the flood, to see Pastor give that pig his due devotion

Now somehow or another they found their way down to Horseapple Creek, the smelliest sewer-whole in all of Arkansas

And there was our beloved pastor, biting and belting and kicking the pig in the jaw

That pig, how it squealed and begged for its life, while pastor was smilin' and laughin' and rolling in the shit

Curtis never noticed that his quarry had slipped away, 'cause he just joined the First Church of Pig

Now we all saw that he was enjoying himself, so we joined him in the mudhole, throwing and kicking up a grand old time

And the hog snuck on up the hill and into the house of God,

Where he sat in Pastors chair and got drunk on Communion wine