He sits at the corner of Beggars Bush 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 Da Da Da Da, come day go day Wish in me heart it was Sunday La La La drinking buttermilk all the week But it’s whisky on a Sunday His tired old hands have a wooden beam And the puppets they dance up and down A far better show than you ever will see In the fanciest theatre in town In 1902 old Seth Davey died His song was heard no more The three dancing dolls in the dustbin were thrown And the plank went to mend the back door On some stormy night if you’re passing that way And the winds blowing up from the sea You will still hear the sound of old Seth Davey As he croons to his dancing girls three