Oh, he sits at the corner of Beggar's Bush
Astride of an old packing case
And the dolls at the end of the plank were dancing
And he crooned with a smile on his face

Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whiskey on a Sunday
 
His tired old hands tug a woorden beam
And the puppets they danced up and down
A far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theatre in town

Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whiskey on a Sunday

In nineteen-o-two old Seth Davy died
His song it was heard no more
The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown
When the plank went to mend a backdoor

Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whiskey on a Sunday

But some stormy night, if you're passing that way
When the wind's blowing up from the sea
You may still hear the song of old Seth Davy
As he croons to his dancing dolls three

Come day, go day
Wish in me heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk all the week
And it's whiskey on a Sunday