I'm a man of 72 and not to place the blame
But I felt quite young till I looked at you
As into the bar you came
So turn around, go back to your girl
And kiss her on the cheek
Cuzz down the line you'll get the chance
To drink with us and sing
Our wives are dead, our peckers are dead
Our sons are off at the war
Our drinks are full, we down em fast
And now we're cryin for more
No man is glad or entirely sad
So long as his drink is full
So pour us a round till we all fall down
We swear we'll pay in the morn
Over 60 years ago I tasted my first sip
Whiskey was my first true love, it had me by me lips
I used to be a catholic man
I never missed a prayer
But since I started drinking well the devil seems more fair
Our wives are dead, our peckers are dead
Our sons are off at the war
Our drinks are full, we down em fast
And now we're cryin for more
No man is glad or entirely sad
So long as his drink is full
So pour us a round till we all fall down
We swear we'll pay in the morn
I knew a lad who drank all day who's wife would run around
Finding love from any man who'd gladly pat her down
He told us "Lads I cannot bear to think my girl untrue" I say,
You're lucky, boy with no clap in your groin
At least she's not given it to you
Our wives are dead, our peckers are dead
Our sons are off at the war
Our drinks are full, we down em fast
And now we're cryin for more
No man is glad or entirely sad
So long as his drink is full
So pour us a round till we all fall down
We swear we'll pay in the morn
Men come gather round
The saddest tale in town
My wife's got good looks
But she cannot cook
So the food's better suited for hounds
So I gave my wife one wish
Serve chicken instead of fish
But after the food
She got in the mood
And she was my favorite dish
Our wives are dead, our peckers are dead
Our sons are off at the war
Our drinks are full, we down em fast
And now we're cryin for more
No man is glad or entirely sad
So long as his drink is full
So pour us a round till we all fall down
We swear we'll pay in the morn
Our wives are dead, our peckers are dead
Our sons are off at the war
Our drinks are full, we down em fast
And now we're cryin for more
No man is glad or entirely sad
So long as his drink is full
So pour us a round till we all fall down
We swear we'll pay in the morn
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