When I was a small lad - in about 1945 - my Dad used to sing a song to me that had had learnet from his father. My Grandfather had, as a young man, frequented the Music Halls in Manchester - this was one of the songs that he, apparently, learnt from there. The song was called "Poor Old Solomon Snoozer" and the lyrics went as follows:

Poor Old Solomon Snoozer,
He behaved like an ass.
He got a lighted taper,
To find an escape of gas
BANG
Another little job for the undertaker,
Another little job for the tombstone maker.
At the local cemetry
They're all getting ready with a brand new grave,
For Solomon,
Has snuffed it.
They drew his Club Money this morning,
And no more he'll play the drum,
For he's gone to Kingdom Come,
And they drew his Club Money this morning.