Ship Of Fools

The Ship of Fools is coming in Take me off I've got to eat Same old stories same old thing Letting out and pulling in Mister, there's a caravan parked out back Restless hoping for a Christian rider The black book, a grappling hook A hangman's noose on a burnt out tree Guess we must be getting close to Tombstone The last time we had eaten Was when the flies were going for free You could count the hardships by the open doors But sandwiched in between Were the fishermen who still Wished they could sail from Tenessee to Arizona So hold on, won't be long The call is on the line Hold on, Sister's gone South to give the sign