Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From floor to floor, and down and side to side,
The summer’s gone, and temperatures are falling,
It’s you, it’s you must go, and I must bide
And on the ice must slide.
But come ye back when busy is the blizzard,
And when the valley’s hushed and white with snow.
It’s I’ll be here, in long johns like the Eskimos,
Oh Danny boy, I cannot feel my toes.
Oh Danny boy, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are knocking
From floor to floor, and down and side-to-side,
The summer’s gone, and radiators need unblocking,
It’s you, it’s you must go, the thermometer’s fried.
But come ye back ere next summer’s in the meadow
And when the valley’s hushed and white with snow,
Tis I’ll be here in salt brine and in ice floe,
Oh, plumber guy, plumber guy, how my nose I’ll blow!
But when ye come,
and the flowers have taken a beating,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
Maybe then ye’ll come and find the place
and finally fix the heating.
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