Old man Peter was a mighty man Combed his hair with a frying pan Washed his head in a wagon wheel Died with a toothache in his heel
Sally, you just ain't no dog gone good But I wouldn't get rid of you, Sally, if I could Don't you send me no foul prayers We'll play in a band while your little feet dance
I come home 'round a quarter to four Saw you threw my food all over the floor I see you walking down the street with a bottle in your hand Looking for another drunkard to raise some sand
