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Whiskey on a Sunday - Corrib Folk
Come day go day
Wish in me heart it was sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a sunday
He sits on the corner of beggar's bush
Stride an old packing case
And the dolls on the end of the plank went a dancing
As he crooned with a smile on his face
Come day go day
Wish in me heart it were sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a sunday
His tired old hands from the wodde beam
And the puppets they danced up and down
A far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theater in town
Come day go day
Wishing me heart it was sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a sunday
In nineteen o two old seth davy died
And his song was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
And the plank went to mend the back door
Come day go day
Wishing me heart it was sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a sunday
On some stormy night when your passing that way
With the wind blowing up from the sea
You can still hear the sound of old seth davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three
Come day go day
Wishing me heart it was sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a sunday
Come day go day
Wishing me heart it was sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
