文本歌词

About a maid I'll sing a song
Sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong
She did ev'ryone of them in them in
She did ev'ryone of them in
One morning in a fit of pique
Sing rickety tickety tin
One morning in a fit of pique
She drowned her father in the creek
The water tasted bad for a week
And we had to make do with gin with gin
We had to make do with gin
Her mother she could never stand
Sing rickety tickety tin
Her mother she cold 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
Sing rickety tickety tin
She set her sister's hair on fire
And as the smoke and flame rose high'are
Danced around the funeral pyre
Playing' a violin olin
Playing' 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
Sing 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
Sing 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