New Jerusalem

New Jerusalem

People come a-marching from miles around
Led to the mission by a joyful sound
Sitting on the steps, clothes on their back
Singing and a-sipping from a brown paper sack
At the New Jerusalem
Skinny little preacher with processed hair
Bouncing like a roster, hands in the air
Lets out a shout to the hungry crowd
Welcomes in the drifters and the down and out
At the New Jerusalem

You’re free to come and go
One hot, home-cooked meal
Will get you down the road

The kitchen is covered in a greasy haze
Serving up dinner on old school trays
Candied yams and mustard greens
Fatback bacon to spice the beans
At the New Jerusalem
There’s rice and gravy, dark brown roux
A shoulder roast and sweet tea brewed
Cherry cobbler, apple pie
Chicory coffee on the side
At the New Jerusalem

You’re free to come and go
One hot, home-cooked meal
Will get you down the road

Reverend Willie Johnson bows his head
Delivers a prayer each one be fed
The kitchen gets still as they clean their plates
Loosen their buttons in silent grace
At the New Jerusalem
Way up high a church bell sounds
All is quiet on streets downtown
A slow parade fills the night
One by one they fade from sight
At the New Jerusalem