My Son Tim by John Francis Flynn Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Oh, my son Tim was a bosun's mate
He could bloody whistle but he never ran a rate
When the thoughts of his mother came into his head
You couldn't understand one word he said
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum

[Verse 2]
Well, up comes Tim without any legs
And in their place he had two wooden pegs
Well, was it the walking across the sea
Wore your two fine legs from the knees away?
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum

[Verse 3]
"Oh, were you drunk or were you blind
When you left your two fine legs behind?
How come Mahone, that you were a silly youth
Not to run away from the Frenchman's shoot?"
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum
[Verse 4]
I was neither drunk nor neither blind
When I left my two fine legs behind
When up came a bloody great cannonball
Took away me sea-boots, oilskins and all
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum

[Verse 5]
"Oh, Tim, me boy," his mother cried
"Them two fine legs were your mommy's pride
Them stumps up a tree wouldn't do at all
Get right, run away from the big cannonball"
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum

[Verse 6]
And now I'll cross the raging main
To Napoleon Bonaparte and the Queen of Spain
And I will make them rue the time
That they took away the legs of a child of mine
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum
With your too-ri-ra, fol-the-da
Whack fol-the-doodle, fol-the-di-dum