A different song with a similar theme to those above:


TEN LITTLE BOTTLES
Words by Ballard MacDonald, music by James V. Monaco, ©1920.
As recorded by Bert Williams, 1920.

Just before the town went dry,
I made up my mind that I
Would never be ever without a little drop of rye.
All that I ever take is just one or two,
So I thought that ten little bottles would 'bout do.

Ten little bottles standin' on the shelf, like soldiers all in a line.
My next-door neighbor saw me bring 'em in, and that left only—

Nine little bottles standin' on the shelf, serenely waitin' their fate.
We missed a bottle when the gas man came, and that left only—

Eight little bottles standin' on the shelf, as rare as tickets to heaven.
The landlord phoned; he's gon' raise my rent, and that left only—

Seven little bottles standin' on the shelf, but my wife's fam'ly are mixed.
They always finish anything they start, and that left only—

Six little bottles standin' on the shelf, to keep my spirits alive.
Our cook is famous for Irish stew, and that left only—

Five little bottles standin' on the shelf, and they don't make it anymore, nossir!
I thought about it till I got the blues and that left only—

Four little bottles standin' on the shelf, between Sahara and me.
I don't remember how I got to bed, but that left only—

Three little bottles standin' on the shelf, but what's a fella to do?
The doctor said: "Brace up! It's a ten-pound boy!" and that left only—

Two little bottles standin' on the shelf; hard luck had only begun.
For my wife's mother had to get the 'flu', and that left only—

One little bottle standin' on the shelf, and though he's dyin' of thirst,
There's no man livin' gonna get a drop unless he kills me—

First, guide my steps, for I know not where I go.