Astride of an old packing case
 And the dolls at the end
 of the plank were dancing
 As he crooned with a smile on his face

 Come day go day
 Whishing in me heart it was Sunday
 Drinking buttermilk all the week
 Whiskey on a Sunday

 His tired old hands from the wooden beam
 And the puppets they danced up and down
 A far better show than you ever would see
 In the fanciest theatre in town

 But in 1902 old Seth Daly died
 His song it was heard no more
 The three dancing dolls
 in the dustbin were thrown
 And the plank went to mend the backdoor

 But on some stormy night
 if you?re passing that way
 With the wind blowing up from the sea
 You can still hear the song
 of old Seth Daly
 As he croons to his dancing dolls three