Whiskey On A Sunday
Performer(s): The Dubliners



Chorus
Come day go day
Whishing in me heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whiskey on a Sunday

He sits on the corner of Beggars Bush
Astride of an old packing case
And the dolls on the end of the plank were dancing
As the crooned with a smile on his face

His tired old hands from the wooden beam
And the puppets they danced up and down
A far better shwo you ever did see
In the fanciest theatre in town

But in 1902 old Step Daly died
His song it was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dust were thrown
And the plank went to mend the backdoor

But on some stormy night if you are passing that way
With the wind blowing up from the sea
You can still hear the song of old Step Daly
As he croons to his dancing dolls three