Dear Sir I write this note to you, to tell you of me plight.
For at this time of writing, I am not a pretty sight.
Me body is all black and blue, me face a deathly grey.
So I write this note to say, why Paddy's not at work today.

While working on the 14th floor, some bricks I had to clear
Now to throw them down from such a height was not a good idea
The Foreman wasn't very pleased, he being an awkward sod
He said I'd have to cart em down the ladder in me hod.

Now clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrow (Barrel), and secured the rope below
But in me haste to do the job, I was too blind to see,
That a barrow full of building bricks, was heavier than me

So, when I untied the rope, the barrow fell like lead
and clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead
Well I shot up like a rocket, till to my dismay I found, that
Half-way up I met the bloody barrow coming down

Well the barrow broke me shoulder, as to the ground it sped
and when I reached the top I banged the pulley with me head.
Well I clung on tight thoug numb with shock from this almighty blow
and the barrow spilled out half the bricks some fourteen floors below

Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrow to the floor,
I then out-weighed the barrow, and so started down once more.
Still clinging tightly to the rope, I sped towards the ground
and landed on the broken bricks, that were scattered all around

Well I lay there groaning on the ground, I thought I'd past the worst
When the barrow hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst.
Wll a shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
as I lay there groaning on the ground, I let go the bloody rope

The barrow then being heavier, it started down once more,
and landed right across me as I lay upon the floor.
I broke three ribs and my right arm, and I can only say
that I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today.


There you go, I hope that helps. I have it credited to a chap called Pat Cooksey

12String Growler