Let me drink with Mrs Overalls
Let me drink with Mrs Overalls, don’t use my gabardine,
A pint with Mrs Overalls or in my beat-up jeans.
Give my suit to Uncle Blake,
He can wear it at my wake,
But let me drink with Mrs Overalls.
The undertaker will get my cash, the grave will get my bones,
And what is left will have to go for one of those granite stones,
But this AB suit cost me two weeks pay
So let it live another day,
But a last drink please with Mrs Overalls.
The Heaven Bar it is a quiet place, there is no labour there,
And I will drink more easy in the clothes I always wear.
This suit was made for warmer climes,
Holidays and happy times,
Let me drink with Mrs Overalls.
And when I get to AB heaven, where they tally work and sin,
They’ll open up those pearly gates and shout out, "Come on in!"
A drinking stiff like you, we know,
Has had his share of the Trolls below
So come to glory having drunk with Mrs Overalls