| When I saw the ambulance
|
| Screaming down Main Street
|
| I didn’t give it a thought
|
| But it was my Uncle Eugene
|
| He died on October the second 1981
|
| And my Uncle Wilbert
|
| They all called him Skinner
|
| They said for his younger ways
|
| He’d get drunk in the morning
|
| And show me the rolls of fifties and hundreds
|
| He kept in the glove box of his old gray Impala
|
| And we’re all gonna be here forever
|
| So Mama don’t you make such a stir
|
| Now put down that camera
|
| And come on and join up
|
| The last of the family reserve
|
| Now my second cousin
|
| His name was Callaway
|
| He died when he’d barely turned two
|
| It was peanut butter and jelly that did it
|
| The help she didn’t know what to do
|
| She just stood there and watched him turn blue
|
| And we’re all gonna be here forever
|
| So Mama don’t you make such a stir
|
| Just put down that camera
|
| And come on and join up
|
| The last of the family reserve
|
| And my friend Brian Temple
|
| He thought he could make it
|
| So from the third story he jumped
|
| He missed the swimming pool
|
| Only by inches
|
| And everyone said he was drunk
|
| Now there was great Uncle Julius
|
| And Aunt Annie Mueller
|
| And Mary and Granddaddy Paul
|
| And there was Hanna and Ella
|
| And Alvin and Alec
|
| He owned his own funeral hall
|
| And there are more I remember
|
| And more I could mention
|
| Than words I could write in a song
|
| But I feel them watching
|
| And I see them laughing
|
| And I hear them singing along
|
| We’re all gonna be here forever
|
| So Mama don’t you make such a stir
|
| Just put down that camera
|
| And come on and join up
|
| The last of the family reserve |