Mr. Malarkey


Mr Malarkey blah blah blah
Mr malarkey nah nah
Mr Malarkey blah blah blah
Mr Malarkey ohhhh
Mr Malarkey likes to hear himself speak
He once told a story it lasted all week
He rarely has anything to say
Doesn’t stop him from saying it all anyway
Sometimes he likes to talk to the wind 
Telling the world about the places he’s been
He never really gone anywhere
He still has lots and lots to share
Whenever you pass that old brown jug
It will never get beyond Mr Malarkey’s mug
He’ll take a sip and then stories start a flowing
Blawwwweehhhh like a hurricane blowing
He talks so much, he’s talked for years
His very own wife, shoved wool in her ears
It’s the very best marriage, though, you ever could find
She just smiles and nods, and shakes her head
If ever you should happen to meet
Mr. Malarkey, be quick on your feet
Turn and go before he opens his mouth
Or you’ll be stuck standing there, listening forever, just sinking into the earth, slowly, one long story at a time, and you try to interrupt, mr malarkey, you already told me that, but he can’t hear you because he’s busy going on and on, telling you the same story over and over and over, and you feel yourself, drifting away into eternity, it’s painful, he won’t shut up, can’t take a hint, just going on and on and on and on and on...

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