The Dying Fisherman's Song

It was midnight on the ocean,
Not a streetcar was in sight;
While the sun was shining brightly,
For it had rained all the night.
'Twas a summer's day in Winter,
And the rain was snowing fast,
As the barefoot girl with shoes on
Stood there sitting in the grass.

Glory, glory, what a story!
Glory, glory, tell me more-ee!
Glory, glory, she'll be sorry!
As the barefoot girl with shoes on
Stood there sitting in the grass.

It was evening and the sunrise
Was just setting in the west;
And the fishes in the treetops
Were all cuddled in their nests.
As the wind was blowing bubbles,
Lightning shot from left to right;
Everything that you could see
Had been hidden out of sight.

Glory, glory, I can't find it!
Glory, glory, who's behind it?
Glory, glory, where'd they hide it?
Everything that you could see
Had been hidden out of sight!

While the organ peeled potatoes,
Lard was rendered by the choir;
When the sexton rang the dishrag,
Someone set the church on fire.
"Holy Smokes!" the preacher shouted,
As he madly tore his hair,
Now his head resembles heaven,
For there is no parting there.

Glory, glory, what a shiny dome!
Glory, glory, get that man a comb!
Glory, glory, that's the end of my poem!
Now his head resembles heaven,
For there is no parting there.