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This is absolutely my all time favourite "drinking" song, although my father taught it to my brother and me before we could walk. When we were kids we would beg him to sing it to us before bedtime. He would sit on the edge of one of our beds with his guitar and play while we would laugh hysterically. After hearing this, we would fall off into a gentle slumber with a tear of laughter in our eyes. I do remember seeing him drink and sing it around a fire on many camping trips. If you know it, sing along!
Rickety Tickety Tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in.
One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin
Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety tickety tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with the spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin.
She weighted her brother down with stones
Sing rickety tickety tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davey Jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin.
She set her sister's hair on fire
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin, olin
Playing a violin.
One day she had nothing to do
Sing rickety tickety tin
One day she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in, bors in
Invited the neighbors in.
And when at last the police came by
Sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
And lying she knew was a sin.
And just one thing before I go
Sing rickety tickety tin
And just one thing before I go
There's something I think that you ought to know
They had no proof, so they let her go
And they say that she's tall and thin, and thin
They say that she's tall and thin.
My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin.
Tom Lehrer
Rickety Tickety Tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did every one of them in, them in
She did every one of them in.
One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin, with gin
We had to make do with gin
Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety tickety tin
Her mother she could never stand
And so a cyanide soup she planned
The mother died with the spoon in her hand
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin
Her face in a hideous grin.
She weighted her brother down with stones
Sing rickety tickety tin
She weighted her brother down with stones
And sent him off to Davey Jones
All they ever found were some bones
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin
Occasional pieces of skin.
She set her sister's hair on fire
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose higher
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin, olin
Playing a violin.
One day she had nothing to do
Sing rickety tickety tin
One day she had nothing to do
She cut her baby brother in two
And served him up as an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in, bors in
Invited the neighbors in.
And when at last the police came by
Sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
Her little pranks she did not deny
To do so she would have had to lie
And lying she knew was a sin, a sin
And lying she knew was a sin.
And just one thing before I go
Sing rickety tickety tin
And just one thing before I go
There's something I think that you ought to know
They had no proof, so they let her go
And they say that she's tall and thin, and thin
They say that she's tall and thin.
My tragic tale I won't prolong
Sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
You've yourself to blame if it's too long
You should never have let me begin, begin
You should never have let me begin.
Tom Lehrer
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Re: Rickety Tickety Tin
Wed, March 21, 2007 - 8:23 AMany chance for a link to somewhere we can hear the melody?
~<{:o)
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Re: Rickety Tickety Tin
Thu, March 22, 2007 - 8:46 AMFYI: The song is called "An Irish Ballad" by Tom Lehrer. -
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Re: Rickety Tickety Tin
Wed, March 28, 2007 - 3:08 PMYou are correct. It is properly called The Irish Ballad (Sing Rickety Tickety Tin), but when we were little kids we just referred to it as RTT because that is what my dad called it.
As for links to music, chords, etc., try:
www.thebards.net/music/lyr...llad.shtml
or
www.guntheranderson.com/v/data...ish.htm
or
www.casualhacker.net/tom.leh...l#ballad
"My Home Town" is another hysterical Tom Lehrer song. My father had a Tom Lehrer song book and sang all these songs to us. I think, as a child, I really appreciated his sick sense of humour, both Mr. Lehrer's and my father's.
Enjoy!
Sage ~
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Re: Rickety Tickety Tin
Fri, March 30, 2007 - 9:58 AMIf you like the faux folk songs, make sure you experience the ultimate in self-deprecating Parodies...
Denis Leary's "Traditional Irish Folk Song"
from 'No Cure For Cancer':
They come over here and they take all our land
They chop of our heads and they boil them in oil
Our children are leaving and we have no heads
We drink and we sing and we drink and we die
We have no heads, we have no heads
They come over here and they chop off our legs
They cut off our hands and put nails in our eyes
O'Grady is dead and O'Hanrahan's gone
We drink and we die and continue to drink
O'Hanrahan, no O'Hanrahan
They buried O'Neill down in Country Shillhame
The poor children crying a fe dee din de
Hin fle di din fle di din fle de din de
In hey bibble bibble hey bibble bibble hey fle bibble de
O'Hanrahan, no O'Hanrahan
We drink and we sing and we drink and we sing, hey!
We drink and we drive and we puke and we drink, hey!
We drink and we fight and we bleed and we cry, hey!
We puke and we smoke and we drink and we die, hey!
:)
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