Collected by Billy Whitfield and Steve Butler For M. C. Parler
Sung by Mr. Otis Williams Wesley, Arkansas December 27, 1959
Reel 328, Item 6
Oh he was a fearless and gifted old liar,
He never was known to get next to the truth.
He feared not the biblic portion of fire
That Sunday schools taught in the day of his youth,
To out lie old Satan, he always was trying,
His tongue in his waking hours never was still,
He lied first alone for the pleasure of lying,
That heartless old reprobate Timberlake Bill
He'd traveled in storms when hailstones were falling As big as the pumpkins they raise in the states,
He's battled in blizzards that were something appalling And always he gave us the days and the dates,
He'd gone six weeks at a time without eating With snow balls his hungering stomach he'd fill
A sharp tongue would take half a year in repeating The index to lies told by Timberlake Bill.
While trying to break his own record at lying,
One morning he paused and seemed gasping for breath,
His eyes fluttered like the wings of a butterfly flying,
His face turned as black as the shadow of death,
We thumped on his back, in the short ribs we poked him, Then layed on the floor all limp and still,
That lie was too big for his throat and had choked him
And that was the last of Timberlake Bill.
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