Whiskey On a Sunday

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday

He sits on the corner of Old Beggar's Bush

Astride of an old packin' case

And the dolls on the end of a flag, they were dancing

And he grinned with a smile on his face

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday

In his tired old hands, from the big wooden beam

And the puppets, they danced up and down

A far better show than you'll ever see

In the fanciest pews in town

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday

For in 1902, old Shep Davy died

And the song, it was heard no more

And the three dancin' dolls in the dustbin were thrown

And the blanket went to mend the backdoor

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday

When one stormy night, if you're passin' that way

With the wind blowin' off from the sea

You will still hear the song of old Shep Davy

As he croons to his dancin' dolls three

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday

Come day, go day, wish in me heart it was Sunday

Drinkin' buttermilk all the week, whiskey on a Sunday