| A One |
Em bout a maid I'll morning in a fit |
sing a song of pique |
| Sing Sing |
rickety- rickety- |
Am tickety- tickety- |
E tin tin |
| A One |
Am bout a maid I'll morning in a fit |
Em sing a song of pique |
| Who She |
D didn't have her drowned her father |
Em family long in the creek |
| Not The |
Em only water |
Am did she tasted |
Em do them bad for a |
Am wrong week |
| She And we |
Em did ev'ry had to |
D one of them make do with |
Em in, them gin, with |
D in gin |
| She We |
Em did ev'ry had to |
D one of them make do with |
Em in 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 a spoon in her hand And her face in a hideous grin, a grin Her face in a hideous grin She set her sister's hair on fire Rickety-tickety-tin She set her sister's hair on fire And as the smoke and flame rose high'r Danced around the funeral pyre Playin' a violin, -olin Playin' a violin She weighted her brother down with stones Rickety-tickety-tin She weighted her brother down with stones And sent him off to Davy Jones All they ever found were some bones And occasional pieces of skin, of skin Occasional pieces of skin | One day when she had nothing to do Rickety-tickety-tin One day when 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 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 Lying, she knew, was a sin My tragic tale, I won't prolong Rickety-tickety-tin My tragic tale I won't prolong And if you do not enjoy my song You've yourselves to blame if it's too long You should never have let me begin, begin You should never have let me begin |