Let me tell you 'bout singin Jesus,
And the words he sang were true.
He went up on the mountain,
And the people, they came too.
There were sinners, there were hippies,1
And the poor and lowly kind,
But the good Lord said, "Come unto me,
And ease your troubled mind."
He was a singin Jesus,
Trav-lin' near and far,
Singin Jesus, with an old beat up guitar,
And on his hands, a scar.
Well, some men preach you a sermon,
They try to save your soul,
Listen to singin Jesus,
Preachin with the rock and roll.
Some men preach you a sermon,
Say give away your cloak and shoes,
Listen to barefoot Jesus
Preachin with the rhythm and blues.
And his song said, Men are brothers,
And it rang out clear and great,
And what the color of the brothers' skin
He did not stipulate.
Said, stop your feudin and fightin,
Kick those no-good wars,
Beat your swords into ploughshares
And your guns into steel guitars.