#01888
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Father fished six days a week, he went to church on Sunday,
He confessed his sins and then he'd begin to sin again on Monday;
But don't get me wrong, he never sinned indeed,
No worse but sin in word,
But you should have heard the way that man could curse.
He went:
Lord liftin', leaping lyin', dear ravin' and dancing dyin',
Sufferin' thunderin, workin' wonderin', robbin' gobbin' hairy,
Hells fire, firey flamin', screechin' screamin', namin' blamin',
Son of a no good, merciful-mudder, of jumpin Joseph Murphy!
One day Father fished his last, it happened this a-way,
He snagged his finger on a hook and the boat began to sway;
Oh, he fell into the water but he never should have drowned,
But he couldn't keep his mouth shut the third time he went down.
He went:
Lord liftin', leaping lyin', dear ravin' and dancing dyin',
Sufferin' thunderin, workin' wonderin', robbin' gobbin' hairy,
Hells fire, firey flamin', screechin' screamin', namin' blamin',
Son of a no good, merciful-mudder, of jumpin Joseph Murphy!
Some say he's down below but I don't believe that's true,
I dare allow he's in heaven above, turning the air bright blue;
For I remember Father the happiest time he ever was,
Cursing till he was blue in the face, he had time for nothing else.
He went:
Lord liftin', leaping lyin', dear ravin' and dancing dyin',
Sufferin' thunderin, workin' wonderin', robbin' gobbin' hairy,
Hells fire, firey flamin', screechin' screamin', namin' blamin',
Son of a no good, merciful-mudder, of jumpin Joseph Murphy!