Lyrics:

(Brooker Reid)The Devil came from Kansas. Where he went to I can't sayThough I teach I'm not a preacher, and I aim to stay that wayThere's a monkey riding on my back, been there for some timeHe says he knows me very well but he's no friend of mineI am not a humble pilgrimthere's no need to scrape and squeezeand don't beg for silver paperwhen I'm trying to sell you cheeseThe Devil came from Kansas. Where he went to I can't sayIf you really are my brother then you'd better start to prayfor the sins of those departed and the ones about to goThere's a dark cloud just above us, don't tell me 'cos I knowI am not a humble pilgrimthere's no need to scrape and squeezeand don't beg for silver paperwhen I'm trying to sell you cheeseNo I never came from Kansas, don't forget to thank the cookWhich reminds me of my duty: I was lost and now I lookfor the turning and the signpost and the road which takes you downto that pool inside the forest in whose waters I shall drownI am not a humble pilgrimthere's no need to scrape and squeezeand don't beg for silver paperwhen I'm trying to sell you cheese