Dressed in his best suit of clothes, 1889.
words and music by Joseph Flynn
An comic Irish-American song in schottische rhythm. Could be sung on St. Patrick’s Day.
The sheet music:
Accompaniment by Benjamin R. Tubb:
Lyrics
- Sunday morning just at nine,
Dan McGinty dress’d so fine,
Stood looking up at a very high stone wall;
When his friend young Pat McCann,
Says, I’ll bet five dollars, Dan,
I could carry you to the top without a fall;
So on his shoulders he took Dan
To climb the ladder he began,
And he soon commenc’d to reach up near the top;
When McGinty, cute old rogue,
To win the five he did let go,
Never thinking just how far he’d have to drop.
Chorus
Down went McGinty to the bottom of the wall,
And tho’ he won the five,
He was more dead than alive,
Sure his ribs, and nose, and back were broke from getting such a fall,
Dress’d in his best suit of clothes.
- From the hospitle Mac went home,
When they fix’d his broken bones,
To find he was the father of a child;
So to celebrate it right,
His friends he went to invite,
And he soon was drinking whisky fast and wild;
Then he waddled down the street
in his Sunday suit so neat,
Holding up his head as proud as John the Great,
But in the sidewalk was a hole,
To receive a ton of coal,
That McGinty never saw till just too late.
Chorus
Down went McGinty to the bottom of the hole,
Then the driver of the cart
Give the load of coal a start,
And it took us half an hour to dig McGinty from the coal,
Dress’d in his best suit of clothes.
- Now McGinty raved and swore,
About his clothes he felt so sore,
And an oath he took he’d kill the man or die;
So he tightly grabb’d his stick
And hit the driver a lick,
Then he raised a little shanty on his eye;
But two policemen saw the muss
And they soon join’d in the fuss,
Then they ran McGinty in for being drunk;
And the Judge says with a smile,
We will keep you for a while
In a cell to sleep upon a prison bunk.
Chorus
Down went McGinty to the bottom of the jail
Where his board would cost him nix,
And he stay’d exactly six,
They were big long months he stopp’d For no one went his bail,
Dress’d in his best suit of clothes.
- Now McGinty thin and pale
One fine day got out of jail,
And with joy to see his boy was nearly wild;
To his house he quickly ran
To meet his wife Bedaley Ann,
But she’d skipp’d away and took along the child;
Then he gave up in despair,
And he madly pull’d his hair,
As he stood one day upon the river shore,
Knowing well he couldn’t swim,
He did foolishly jump in,
Although water he had never took before.
Chorus
Down went McGinty to the bottom of the say,
And he must be very wet
For they haven’t found him yet,
But they say his ghost comes round the docks Before the break of day,
Dress’d in his best suit of clothes.
Sung here by Fred Feild: