| Oh the Murphy’s gave a party just about a week ago
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| Everything was plentiful, the Murphy’s they’re not slow
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| They treated us like gentlemen, we tried to act the same
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| But only for what happened, well it was an awful shame
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| When Mrs. Murphy dished the chowder out
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| She fainted on the spot
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| She found a pair of overalls
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| In the bottom of the pot
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| Tim Nolan he got rippin' mad
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| His eyes were bulgin' out
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| He jumped up on the PI-A-NO
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| And loudly he did shout
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| Oh, who threw the overalls in Mrs Murphy’s chowder
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| Nobody spoke, so he shouted all the louder
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| It’s an Irish trick that’s true
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| I can lick the mick that threw
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| The overalls in Mrs Murphy’s chowder
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| So we dragged the pants from out the soup and laid them on the floor
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| Each man swore upon his breast he’d ne’er seen them before
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| They were plastered up with mortar and were worn out at the knee
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| They’d had their many ups and downs as we could plainly see
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| when Mrs Murphy she came to she began to cry and pout
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| She’d had them in the wash that day and forgot to take them out
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| Tim Nolan he excused himself for what he’d said that night
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| so we put music to the words and sang with all our might
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| Oh, who threw the overalls in Mrs Murphy’s chowder
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| Nobody spoke so we shouted all the louder
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| It’s an Irish trick that’s true
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| I can lick the mick that threw
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| The overalls in Mrs Murphy’s chowder |