He sits on the corner of Beggars Bush Astride of an old packing case And the dolls at the end Of the plank were dancing As he crooned with a smile on his face Come day go day Whishing in me heart it was Sunday Drinking bu*termilk all the week Whiskey on a Sunday His tired old hands from the wooden beam And the puppets they danced up and down A far better show than you ever would see
In the fanciest theatre in town But in 1902 old Seth Daly died His song it was heard no more The three dancing dolls In the dustbin were thrown And the plank went to mend the backdoor But on some stormy night If you´re pa**ing that way With the wind blowing up from the sea You can still hear the song Of old Seth Daly As he croons to his dancing dolls three