I'll sing you a little ditty, it's as crazy as can be,
The guy who wrote it said he'd keep it as he handed it to me;
I found I couldn't use it, 'cause it was so very blue,
And that's the very reason why I'm handing it to you.

It's the song the alligators sing, when comin' thro' the rye,
As they serenade the elephants up in the trees so high;
It's the song the iceman sings, as he shovels in the coal,
And the monkeys join the chorus up around the northern pole.

It was midnight on the ocean, not a streetcar was in sight;
I stepped into the drugstore to buy myself a light;
The man behind the counter was a woman old and gray,
Who used to peddle shoestrings on the road to Mandaly.

"Good morning, Sir," the maiden cried; her eyes were dry with tears;
She stuck her head beneath her feet and stood that way for years;
Her children six were orphans, except one tiny tot;
Who lived in the house across the street above the vacant lot.

While the organ peeled potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir;
And the sexton rung the dishrag someone set the church on fire;
"Holy Smoke!" the preacher shouted and his wig flew in the air;
Now his head resembles heaven, as there is no parting there.

As the cows were making cowslips, the bells were ringing wet;
The bumblebees were making bumbles, smoking cigarettes;
'Twas a summer's day in winter and the rain was snowing fast,
And the barefoot boy with shoes on stood sitting in the grass.

That's the way my old man used to do it.