Henry Parsons Died
Widespread Panic Lyrics


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It was six o' clock on Saturday
Henry Parsons died.
All of his good neighbors say
That man was never truly satisfied.
Preacherman never said no prayers
Church bells didn't ring
Everybody stood up and stared when some
Choir girls jumped up and started to sing

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.
Devil still called his name.
Every time he shot up drinking holy wine
He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.

Had an auction on his from porch this morning
Sold off all his clothes
Sold off his four-poster bed
There were debutantes and old ladies breaking out in fights in the front row
Burned his house and spent the night
Smoke rose thick and black
Now Henry Parsons' got no place to stay
If he ever gets the nerve up to come back

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.
Devil still called his name.
Every time he shot up drinking holy wine
He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.

Everybody knows his name
They've heard about his reputation
They all came to see him buried down in the ground
What you might call a little bit of morbid fascination
What is everybody gonna say?
What is everybody gonna do?
Now that Henry Parsons' passed away
We got no one to lay our guilt on to

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.
Devil still called his name.
Every time he shot up drinking holy wine
He'd spill it all down

He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.
Devil still called his name.




Every time he shot up drinking holy wine
He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.

Overall Meaning

The song "Henry Parsons Died" by Widespread Panic tells the story of a man who passed away and the aftermath of his death. The lyrics paint an image of the community's reaction to his passing, with everyone curious about what will happen now that he's gone. The song starts by announcing his death in a matter-of-fact way, with the time and date given: "It was six o'clock on Saturday, Henry Parsons died." While it may seem cold, this abrupt announcement sets the tone for the rest of the song.


The story of Henry Parsons is revealed in the verses, describing him as a man who was never truly satisfied. The preacher never said any prayers for him, and the church bells never rang at his funeral. While he may have been baptized many times, the devil still called his name, and his faith was mixed with shame. After his death, his belongings were sold off at an auction, and his house was burned down, leaving him with no place to stay if he ever came back. The song ends on a somber note, with the community pondering what they will do now that they have lost a common scapegoat: "Now that Henry Parsons' passed away, we got no one to lay our guilt on to."


The lyrics to this song are open to interpretation, but one possible reading is that Henry Parsons represents a community's desire for a scapegoat. They project their guilt and shame onto him, seeing him as a troubled soul who was never truly happy. The community comes together in morbid fascination after his death, perhaps relieved but unsure of what comes next. This song is a commentary on the human need for a scapegoat and the way we sometimes build people up just so we can tear them down.


Line by Line Meaning

It was six o' clock on Saturday
Henry Parsons died.


All of his good neighbors say
That man was never truly satisfied.


Preacherman never said no prayers
Church bells didn't ring


Everybody stood up and stared when some
Choir girls jumped up and started to sing


He was baptized in every creek in Georgia.
Devil still called his name.


Every time he shot up drinking holy wine
He'd spill it all down his shirt in shame.


Had an auction on his from porch this morning
Sold off all his clothes


Sold off his four-poster bed


There were debutantes and old ladies breaking out in fights in the front row


Burned his house and spent the night
Smoke rose thick and black


Now Henry Parsons' got no place to stay
If he ever gets the nerve up to come back


Everybody knows his name
They've heard about his reputation


They all came to see him buried down in the ground
What you might call a little bit of morbid fascination


What is everybody gonna say?


What is everybody gonna do?


Now that Henry Parsons' passed away
We got no one to lay our guilt on to




Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS

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