Lyrics:

Come day go day
I wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk through the week
And whiskey on a Sunday

He sits on the corner by an old beggar's bush
Atop of an old packing crate
He's got three wooden dolls who can dance and can sing
And he sits with a smile on his face

Come day go day
I wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk through the week
And whiskey on a Sunday

His tired old hands tug away on the strings
And the puppets, they dance up and down
It's a far better show than you ever will see
In the fanciest theatre in town

Come day go day
I wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk through the week
And whiskey on a Sunday

I'm sad to relate that Ould Sad Davie died
In 1904
His three wooden dolls in the dustbin are laid
Their songs will be heard nevermore

Come day go day
I wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk through the week
And whiskey on a Sunday

Some dark stormy night should your passin' that way
And the winds blowin' up from the sea
You can still hear the voice of Ould Sad Davie
As he sings to his dancin' dolls three

Come day go day
I wish in my heart it was Sunday
Drinkin' buttermilk through the week
And whiskey on a Sunday