WHISKEY ON A SUNDAY

COME DAY, GO DAY

(Glyn Hughes)



Come day, go day

Wish in my heart it were Sunday

Drinking buttermilk thru the week

Whiskey on a Sunday



He sits in the corner of old beggar's bush

On top of an old packing crate

he has three wooden dolls that can dance and can sing

And he croons with a smile on his face



His tired old hands tug away at the strings

And the puppets dance up and down

A far better show than you ever would see

In the fanciest theatre in town



And sad to relate that old Seth Davy died

In 1904

The three wooden doll in the dustbin were laid

His song will be heard nevermore



But some stormy night when you're passing that way

And the wind's blowing up from the sea

You'll still hear the song of old Seth Davy

As he croons to his dancing dolls three



Recorded by Irish Rovers

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