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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 the 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
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre--
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin
She weighted her brother down with stones
Rickety-tickety-tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davy Jones
All they ever found were 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
And lying, she knew, was a sin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
And if you do not enjoy my song
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long--
You should never have let me begin, begin,
You should never have let me begin!
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 the 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
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre--
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin
She weighted her brother down with stones
Rickety-tickety-tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davy Jones
All they ever found were 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
And lying, she knew, was a sin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety-tickety-tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
And if you do not enjoy my song
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long--
You should never have let me begin, begin,
You should never have let me begin!
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Date: Feb. 21st, 2004 02:17 pm (UTC)From: