The devil came a knocking ,
he just won’t go away ,
I told him it’s past bedtime,
and a prayer is on its way .
Yet still he rattles his bones at my door ,
of souls he once cought ,
and doesn't bother anymore.
Yet here am I all alone ,
with an eye for all the ladies with their pleasant smiles .
With their chandlers they bring ,
to ply me with drink .
For in their music halls they sing .
Sordid songs for a shilling and six ,
and dance on the tables champagne in one hand ,
conducting the choir of the sordid man .
Now mr Charrington a Godly sacred man preaching the Lord ,
the best he could .
Yet the devils bones have still much more to say ,
about the ladies charms that seem here to stay .
So the moral be ( if there be one to tell )
follow the devils bones ,
one way to hell !
But if virtue I hold how honoured I might be ,
to know the king of love Christ Jesus ,
eternally .
And bless the ones that to this day ,
find virtue ,
and goodness spent ,
with Christ Jesus eternally .
And O that old devil may rattle his bones across the gate of his grave
yard all on his own ,
just one thing I pray ,
you won’t turn the light off ,
and leave me alone .
.