Info: Whisky on a Sunday

Subject: Lyr Add: WHISKY ON A SUNDAY
From: AndyG
Date: 29 Jan 99 - 09:59 AM

Mo,Dan, Thanks a lot, this is enough to spring open the locked doors in my memory.

Whisky on a Sunday (as I remember it, Liverpool variant)

He sat on the corner of Bevington Bush
Astride an old packing case.
And the dolls on the end of the plank went dancing
As he crooned with a smile on his face:

Chorus:
Come day, Go day,
Wishing me heart for Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
Whisky on a Sunday.

His tired old hands drummed the wooden beam
And the puppet-dolls they danced the gear.
A better show than you had ever seen
At the Pivvy or New Brighton Pier.

Chorus:

Well in 1902 Seth Davy died
And his song was heard no more.
The three dancing dolls in a jower bin ended
And the plank went to mend a back door.

Chorus:

If you ever go down xxx xxx way, *
When the wind whistles up from the sea,
You can still hear the voice of old Seth Davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three.

Chorus:

* still can't remember this bit!

AndyG

Subject: RE: Whisky on a Sunday
From: Don Meixner
Date: 28 Jan 99 - 10:18 PM

Mo,

When I sing the the song in my band we sing

" His old withered hands they would beat on the beam, And the puppets would dance up and down."

And I learned the name as "Sed Davy". Can't remember where, but those where the words in a song book I saw.

Either way works, thats the folk process for you.

Don.

Subject: Lyr Add: WHISKY ON A SUNDAY
From: Mo
Date: 28 Jan 99 - 08:18 PM

Rather than clutter up the Kid Mudcatteers thread with messages from oldies like me (34 - nearly 35!) here's the lyrics to this songs as I know them - hope it's useful!

Mo

He sits on the corner of Beggar’s Bush
Astride of an old packing case.
And the dolls on the end of the plank are dancing
As he croons with a smile on his face:

CHORUS: Come day, Go day,
Wishing me heart it was Sunday
Drinking buttermilk all the week
And it’s whisky on a Sunday.

His tired old hand on the wooden beam
As the puppets they danced up and down.
A finer show than you ever would see
At the fanciest theatre in town. CHORUS:

Well in 1902 old Seth Davy died
And his songs they were heard no more.
And the three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
And the plank went to mend the back door. CHORUS:

Well if you ever go down by Beggar’s Bush
When the wind’s blowing up from the sea,
You can still hear the songs of old Seth Davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three. CHORUS: (X 2)