It was a lovely Sunday mornin'
And everyone was gay.
Everyone but Deacon Jones
Who did not feel that way.
He was loaded down with pills; He was plastered to the gills.
You could tell it; You could smell it
Everytime you heard him yell:
I found out who threw the whiskey in the well.
Yes I know who threw the whiskey in the well.
Yes, I'm squealin' on my friend
'Cause he went south with my end.
Yes, I know who threw the whiskey in the well.
Deacon Jones,
Who threw the Whiskey in the well?
Deacon Jones,
Who threw the Whiskey in the well?
I will tell you in a minute
Soon as I find out what's in it.
Yes, I know who threw the whiskey in the well.
I'm gonna tell
Who threw the whiskey in the well.
I'm gonna tell
Who threw the whiskey in the well.
When you kneel down on your knees
I will set your mind at ease
'Cause I know who threw the whiskey in the well.