Rickety, Tickety, Tin

Of a maid I'll sing you a song,
Sing Rickety, Tickety, Tin.
O, Of a maid I'll sing you a song,
She did not have her family long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
But she did everyone of them in, in,
She did everyone of them in.
 
One morning in a fit of peak,
Sing Rickety, Tickety, Tin.
One morning in a fit of peak,
She drowned her father in the creek.
Water taste horrible for a week,
So they had to make do with gin, gin,
They had to make do with gin.
 
Her mother she could never stand,
Sing Rickety, Tickety, Tin.
Her mother she could never stand,
So a cyanide soup was planned.
Mother died with a spoon in her hand,
Her face in a hideous grin, 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 flames grew higher and higher,
She danced around the funeral pyre,
Playing her violin, lin,
Playing her violin.
 
One fine day, she had nothing to do,
Sing Rickety, Tickety, Tin.
One fine day, she had nothing to do,
So she chopped her baby brother in two.
Served him up for Irish stew,
And had all the neighbors in, in,
And had all the neighbors in.
 
One morning the police came by,
Sing Rickety, Tickety, Tin.
One morning the police came by,
Her little pranks she could not deny.
For to do so she would have to lie.
And she knew that a lie was a sin, sin.
She knew that a lie was a sin.