CURLY (--singing--):
Pore Jud is daid, pore Jud Fry is daid;
All gather 'round his coffin now and cry.
He had a heart of gold and he wasn't very old,
Oh, why did such a fella have to die.
Pore Jud is daid, pore Jud Fry is daid;
He's lookin' oh, so peaceful and serene (--JUD: and serene--).
He's all laid out to rest with his hands across his chest;
His fingernails have never been so clean.
CURLY (--spoken--):
Why then the preacher'd get up and he'd say:
"Folks, we're gathered together here today to moan and groan over brother Jud Fry who hung himself up by a rope in the
smokehouse."
(--Then there'd be weepin' and wailin', from some of those women.--)
Then he'd say:
"Jud was the most misunderstood man in the territory. People used to think he was a mean, ugly fella; used to think he was a
dirty skunk and orn'ry pig stealer."
CURLY (--singing--):
But the folks who really knowed him, know that beneath the two dirty shirts that he always wore,
There beat a heart as big as all out doors (--JUD: as big as all out doors--).
Jud Fry loved his fellow man (--JUD: he loved his fellow man--).
CURLY (--spoken--):
He loved the birds of the forest,
He loved the beasts in the field,
He loved the mice and vermin and he treated the rats like equal (--which was right--).
He loved everybody and everything, he loved the little children only . . . only he never let on, so nobody ever knowed it.
CURLY (--singing--):
Pore Jud is daid, pore Jud Fry is daid;
His friends'll weep and wail for miles around (--JUD: miles around--).
The daisies in the dell will give out a different smell
Because poor Jud is under neath the ground.
JUD (--singing--):
Pore Jud is daid, a candle lights his haid.
He's layin' in a coffin made of wood (--CURLY: wood--),
And folks are feelin' sad 'cause they used to treat him bad,
But now they know their friend is gone for good (--CURLY: good--).
BOTH (--singing--):
Pore Jud is daid, a condle lights his haid.
CURLY (--singing--):
He's lookin' oh, s'purdy and s'nice.
He looks like he's asleep, it's a shame that he won't keep,
But it's summer and we're runnin' out of ice.
BOTH (--singing--):
Pore . . . Jud
Pore . . . Jud
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