I can't get into the DT to see if this was ever posted,
so just in case it isn't, welcome to my childhood
naughtiness.

Three Irishmen

Three irishmen, three irishmen,
Sitting in a ditch
One called the other a dirty son of a

Peter Piper had a dog, a mighty fine dog was he,
He sold it to a lady to keep her company.
She fed it, she pet it, she taught it how to jump.
It jumped right up her petticoat and grabbed her by the

Country boy, country boy, sitting on a fence,
Along came a bumble bee and stung him on the
Cocktail, gingerale, ten cents a glass,
If you do not like it, just shove it up your

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no more lies,
If you happen to get hit with a bucket of shit,
Be sure to close your eyes!


... and the still popular...

I have seen the burning of the burning of the school
We tortured all the teachers and we broke the golden rule.
We're gonna hang the principal tomorrow afternoon,
But I wish it were today, hey, hey, hey

Glory, glory, alleluja (sic, see what happens when you're
a non-practicing catholic, your spelling goes down the tubes.)
Teacher hit me with a ruler.
I met her at the door, with a 40-44
And she ain't gonna teach no more.


Also did the Miss Lucy thing, but the glass was behind the
Iron Curtain instead of the fridge.

These were the playground songs. The defiance we felt, and the giggling. Looking back, it was neat the way the teachers just rolled their eyes and ignored us, giving us the space to be inducted into that circle of childhood comraderie, much like the secret handshake, and knowing that we didn't mean it (really!).