He sits at the corner of Begger's Bush Astride of an old packing crate And the dolls at the end of the plank were dancing As he crooned with a smile on his face:
"La da da... Come day, go day Wish in me heart it was Sunday Drinking buttermilk all the week, And a whiskey on a Sunday"
His tired old hands worked the wooden beam As the puppets they danced up and down A far better show than you ever will see In the fanciest theatre in town
La da da... Come day, go day Wish in me heart it was Sunday Drinking buttermilk all the week, And a whiskey on a Sunday
In 1902 old Seth Davie died His song it was heard no more The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown And the plank went to mend a back door
On some stormy night if you're passing that way With the wind blowing up from the sea You can still hear the song of old Seth Davie As he croons to his dancing dolls three
La da da... Come day, go day Wish in me heart it was Sunday Drinking buttermilk all the week, And a whiskey on a Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week, And a whiskey on a SundayTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
