Irish Ballad 
words and music by Tom Lehrer
About a maid I'll sing this song sing rickety tickety tin
About a maid I'll sing this song
Who did not have her family long
Not only did she do them wrong.
She did everyone of them in.
Them in. She did every one 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 could 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 grew higher
She danced around the funeral pyre
Playing a violin.
O-lin. Playing a violin.
She tied her brother down with stones sing rickety tickety tin
She tied 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 she had nothing to do sing
rickety tickety tin
One day she had nothing to do
So she cut her baby brother in two
Served him up in an Irish stew
And invited the neighbors in.
-Bors in. Invited the neighbors in.
Now when at last the police came by sing rickety tickety tin
And when at last the police came by
These terrible deeds she did not deny
To do so she would have to lie
And lying she knew was a sin.
A sin. Lying she knew was a sin.
My tragic tale I won't prolong sing rickety tickety tin
My tragic tale I won't prolong
And if you did not enjoy this song
You've yourself to blame for letting me go on
You should never have let me begin!
Begin. You should never have let me begin!