About a maid I'll sing a song

Sing rickety tickety tin

About a maid I'll sing a song

Who didn't have her family long

Not only did she do them wrong

She did ev'ryone of them in them in

She did ev'ryone 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 cold 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 rose high'are

Danced around the funeral pyre

Playing' a violin olin

Playing' a violin

She weighted her brother down with stones

Rickety tickety tin

She weighted 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 when she had nothing to do

Sing rickety tickety tin

One day when she had nothing to do

She cut her baby brother in two

And served him up as an irish stew

And invited the neighbors in bors in

Invited the neighbors in

And when at last the police came by

Sing rickety tickety tin

And when at last the police came by

Her little pranks she did not deny

To do so she would have had to lie

And lying she knew was a sin a sin

Lying she knew was a sin

My tragic tale I won't prolong

Rickety tickety tin

My tragic tale I won't prolong

And if you do not enjoy my song

You've yourselves to blame if it's too long

You should never have let me begin begin

You should never have let me begin