1. Come day, go day|
Wish in my heart it were Sunday
Drinking buttermilk thru the week
Whiskey on a Sunday.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. And sad to relate that old Seth Davy died
The three wooden doll in the dustbin were laid
His song will be heard nevermore.
5. 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.
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