Polythene Flowers

They came in their utes and their fine Sunday suits
There was brandy and whiskey and ale
For the word has gone out to the stations about
The old bastard had booted the pail
We stood round the box with a scotch on the rocks
And drank to the health of the corpse
Someone sang ‘Danny Boy’ we started to cry
Then we had a drop more of the turps

Tim, mavoureen, why did you die
And you in the height of your power
We’ll send you off drunk in a nice wooden trunk
With a big bunch of polythene flowers

Said Biddy McGee, now listen to me
He’s had more than his three score and ten
Take him off to the bar, we’ll buy him a jar
Then we’ll lug his old box back again
We picked up the cask and we set to the task
Off down the wallaby track
Said Biddy by gum he weighs half a ton
Put his old bag of bones in a sack

Tim, mavoureen, why did you die

We bought the first round, we knocked it straight down
With a chorus of ‘Isn’t It Grand’
Then a bucket or two of the old mountain dew
We’re so pissed that no bastard could stand
The priest he said Christ I’m so f**kin’ sliced
Pour me into me collar and vest
Then it’s off to the church we staggered and lurched
For to lay the old bastard to rest

Tim, mavoureen, why did you die

We stood around the grave, the sermon was gave
And we prayed to the Lord for his soul
Alright said the priest, we’ll take the deceased
And chuck him down into that hole
We looked all around but he couldn’t be found
We were all too f**ked up for the job
And we’d all got so blind we’d left him behind
Lying there on the floor of the pub

Tim, mavoureen, where are you now
Are you down at the pub after hours?
Are you lying there drunk in your nice wooden trunk
With a big bunch of polythene flowers