The Irish Ballad
Composer(s): Tom Lehrer
Performer(s): Tom Lehrer; Evy Mayer



About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in!

One morning, in a fit of pique
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
One morning, in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin!

Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with a spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin!

She set her sister's hair on fire
Rickety-tickety-tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flames rose higher
danced around the funeral pyre
Playin' a violin, -olin
Playin' a violin!

She weighed her brother down with stones
Rickety-tickety-tin
She weighed her brother down with stones
And sent him down to Davy Jones
All they ever found was some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin!

One day, when she had nothing to do
Rickety-tickety-tin
One day, when she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an Irish stew
And invited the neighbours in, 'bours in
Invited the neighbours in!

And when at last the police came by
Rickety-tickety-tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
Lying she knew was a sin!

My tragic tale I won't prolong
Rickety-tickety-tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
And if you don't enjoy my song
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin!