Chorus:
F# B E A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday
F# B E A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday
A B
He sits on the corner, of 'ol beggars bush,
E A
On top of an old packing crate
B
He has three wooden dolls that can dance and can sing
E A
And he croons with a smile on his face
Chorus
F# B E A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday
F# B E A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday
A B
His tired old hands, tug away at the strings
E A
And the puppets they dance up and down
B
A far better show than you ever would see
E A
In the fanciest theatre in town
Chorus:
F# B E A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday
F# B E A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday
A B
I'm sad to relate that old Seth Davy died,
E A
In Nineteen Hundred and Four
B
The three wooden dolls in the dustbin were laid
E A
His song will be heard nevermore
Chorus:
F# B E A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday
F# B E A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday
B
And some stormy night, when your passing that way
E A
And the wind's blowing up from the sea
B
You'll still hear the song of old Seth Davy
E A
As he croons to his dancing dolls three
Chorus: (Repeat and end )
F# B E A
Come day go day, wishing in me heart it was Sunday
F# B E A
Drinkin' buttermilk thru the week, Whiskey on a Sunday
