Cool the bath to twenty-five degrees
Boys the man is dead enough for me
Legs and arms are sellin' by the pound
Grind him up and take him into town

Lungs and livers, tongues and feet
Never waste the meat
When times are tough we must get by we must do what we must
These ends shall be our means

Friends I bid you caution should you pass through Drifter's Creek
Expect no welcome from that town unless you be the feast

Lyrics submitted by spacula

The Coroner of Drifter's Creek song meanings
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