(One person leads, the group then repeats after each line except for the chorus where everyone sings together)

Oh you’ll never go to heaven

In a baked bin tin

Coz a baked bean tin

Has got baked beans in (repeat)

 

CHORUS:

I Ain’t gonna grieve my Lord no more

I Ain’t gonna grieve my Lord no more

I Ain’t gonna grieve my Lord no more

 

Oh you’ll never got heaven

In (name a Scout)’s car

‘Cause (that Scout)’s car

Won’t go that far (repeat)

 

Chorus

 

Oh you’ll never go to heaven

In a rowing boat

‘Cause the rowing boat

Won’t even float (repeat)

 

Chorus

 

Oh you’ll never go to heaven

On roller skates

‘Cause you’ll roll right by

Those pearly gates

 

Chorus

 

Oh you’ll never go to heaven

In a jumbo jet

‘Cause the Lord ain’t got

No runways yet (repeat)

 

Chorus

 

Oh you’ll never go to heaven,

In (name a Scout)’s bra

‘Cause (that Scout)’s bra,

Won’t stretch that far (repeat)

 

Chorus

 

Oh you’ll never go to heaven

In (name a Scout)’s pants

‘Cause (that Scout)’s pants

Are full of ants (repeat)

 

Chorus

 

Oh I want to go to heaven,

So I’ll do it right,

I’ll go up to heaven

All dressed in white

Oh one fine day,

And it won’t be long,

You’ll look for me,

And I’ll be gone

Oh if you get to heaven,

Before I do

Just dig a hole,

And pull me through

 

Chorus

 

Well I get to heaven,

Before you do

I’ll dig a hole,

And spit on you

That’s all there is

There ain’t no more

Saint Peter said,

As he closed the door

 

Additional verses:

Oh you can’t get to heaven, in a rocking chair.

‘Cause the Lord don’t allow, no lazybones there

 

Oh you can’t get to heaven, on water skis.

‘Cause the Lord don’t allow, no hairy knees.

 

Oh you can’t get to heaven in a limousine,

‘Cause the Lord don’t sell no gasoline.

 

Oh you can’t get to heaven on a motor bike,

‘Cause you’ll get halfway, then you’ll have to hike.

 

Oh you can’t get to heaven with powder and paint,

‘Cause it makes you look like what you ain’t.

 

Oh you can’t get to heaven in a strapless gown,

‘Cause the gosh darn thing might fall right down.

 

Oh you can’t chew terbaccy on the golden shore,

‘Cause the Lord don’t have no cuspidor.