Recorded by: Buddy Wasisname and the Other Fellers
Written by: Kevin Blackmore & Chris Elliott
Now speaking of language Your father certainly had a language in his day didn’t he?
My sonny b’y Raymond my son, My father…
You take up there in those balconies hey?
My son My father could let go a line and It would hit the wall up there
and then he’d let another one go and then when that one was coming back
The two would collide and would be there and start to scorch and burn!
My son! Couldn’t that man swear?
My sonny b’y, nothing…Nothing could compare with Father!
So in other words he was a powerful beast?
Oh my son! A powerful man to swear
You knows father. Got a song here
You just play that fiddle there for a second…
Chris Lorne Elliott, Kevin Blackmore, 1981
Father fished six days a week
He went to church on Sunday
He confessed his sins and then he’d begin to sin again on Monday
But don’t get me wrong
He never sinned indeed no worse
but sin in word
But you should have heard
The way that man could curse
Lord liftin’, leaping lyin’, dear ravin’ and dancing dyin’,
sufferin’ thunderin, workin’ wonderin’, robbin’ gobbin’ hairy,
hells fire, firey flamin’, screechin’ screamin’, namin’ blamin’,
son of a no good, merciful-mudder, of jumpin Joseph Murphy!
One day Father fished his last
It happened this a-way
He snagged his finger on a hook and the boat began to sway
Oh he fell into the water
But he never should have drowned
But he couldn’t keep his mouth shut
The third time he went down
Some say he’s down below
But I don’t believe that’s true
I dare allow he’s in heaven above
Turning the air bright blue
For I remember Father
The happiest time he ever was
Cursing till he was blue in the face
He had time for nothing else