Take a look on the wall
there, dear husband, hangs in the hall
head to toe, dressed to the nines
he wasn't perfection, but he was all mine
dapper he was, as the girls would say
I would here them whisper as I went about my day
the winks and stares as we would head down the street
the women would seem to all go in heat
a late night, one time
he stammered in the door
I couldn't help but to ask
"so who was the whore"
out of line, I was, as a woman of God
But his clothes and smell, were disheveled and odd
and then, my dear husband
he headed to bed
and then, my dear husband
got a bullet to the head
now there he hangs
handsome on the wall
and downstairs he lays
casket and all
