An ancient mariner finds a nice sunny spot on the broadwalk and sets his kit bag down. Watching the pretty girls walk by he sighs a wish he was twenty years younger and sits down on the warm planking. Opening up his lunch bag he munches slowly on a generously filled lobster roll; taking the occasional swig from a brandy laced bottle of springwater.

After lunch it's time to do a little busking and make enough money for a warm bed, or a train ticket back to Halifax. He rummages around his kit bag and pulls out a couple of wooden dolls he got from a Jowla bin in Liverpool. When he was a young man he used to watch Seth Davy sing on the corner of Bevvington Bush and make these dolls dance on an old plank of wood for money passers by would throw in his hat. When Seth died they were thrown into a dustbin and the mariner retrieved them for old times sake...

The mariner put out his hat and says "Well Seth Old Chap lets see if these dolls still have some magic in em mate"...The mariner sings and makes the dolls dance

WHISKEY ON A SUNDAY or COME DAY, GO DAY
(Glyn Hughes)
Chorus
da da da daaa
Come day, go day
Wish in my heart it were Sunday
Drinking buttermilk thru the week
Whiskey on a Sunday

He sits in the corner of Bevvington Bush
On top of an old packing case
he has three wooden dolls that can dance and can sing
And he croons with a smile on his face

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


In 1905 Seth davey died
and his songs were heard no more
The three wooden dolls in a jowlah bin ended
and the plank went to mend a back door

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