In the town of Tifton, Georgia On a hot and dusty day You could see the heat coming off the ground Up the street a man came running Stumbling on his way And he shouted that the gospel singer is coming to our town Hallelujah the gospel singer is coming Hallelujah the gospel singer is coming He was born in Tipton, Georgia With a voice as pure as gold And his hair was golden as the sun Drinking and women were his friends But the people did not know That he did not feel the songs he sung Hallelujah the gospel singer is coming Hallelujah yeah the gospel singer is coming In a tent, a thick tarpaulin In a pasture near the town The people came and waited all day long There were some who could not walk And some who could not see And it was believed that he could help them with his songs But the singer he had grown tired Of the life that he had lived And to the rich and poor, sick and cripple He looked at them and said I cannot cure your illness And I cannot make you see For I have loved your women And I sang to you for money In the town of Tipton, Georgia The sun was arising But not a soul was seen out on the street But some had gathered in the pasture And were staring outside to believe At the shadow of the singer 'Neath the tall and lonesome pine tree Hallelujah, hallelujah ...