We've many sorts of preachers,
In this big world of ours,
Of different styles and manners,
And various points and powers.

Some are quite fast and fluent,
And make a pretty show,
Some dull and dry and prosy,
And tire-some-ly slow!

Some preach the ancient gospel
In diction chaste and choice,
Some tell the good old story
In big sonorous voice.

Some pound the blessed Bible
And hymn book without guile,
And beat the bang the pulpit
In pugilistic style.

Some are good Bible teaches,
Some cry, and some exhort,
Some rant and spit and sputter,
Some bellow and cavort.

Some modern gospel preachers
In style appear to be
Like to a little steamboat
Down on the Tennessee.

It had a monstrous whistle,
And made a mighty blow,
But had a small propeller,
And could not blow and go!

Some preachers sing a solo,
As they dispense the word,
A sort of lonesome tune-ah,
Which sounds a bit absurd!

They sing how the good Lord-ah,
Before the world began,
By his amazing grace-ah,
Decreed the fate of man!

He chose a little flock-ah,
To serve him here below,
And sent the rest to hell-ah,
Without a chance or show!

I know some modern preachers,
Who'll swear that they are right,
And sometimes stake their money,
Or banter for a fight.

They'll down you with St. Peter,
And wallop you with Paul,
And vow that your best doctrine
Is worse than none at all!

Some do not like hard doctrine,
The strong meat of the word,
And think the Lord's commandments
Are silly and absurd.

They never mention water,
For reasons they could tell,
And would not say "damnation,"
To save a soul from hell!

Some wear tall hats, la stovepipe,
Their collars stand up high,
And point the wayward sinners
To mansions in the sky!

Their coats are long and glossy,
Their sermons short and cute,

Their clothes (and not their gospel)
They keep in good repute.

I note these various preachers,
As I the world pass through,
Their special styles and manners,
Now, pray, which one are you?

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