MISTER BERRY (Paul O’Brien)
I can still picture the window-cleaner as he would be making his rounds. I never could figure out how he filled his bucket, and I’m afraid my imagination ran away with me while writing this song, no offence meant to anyone.
I knew a window cleaner, mister Berry was his name
He had a magic bucket, please let me explain
He’d fill it in the morning, and then be on his way
And with a single pail of water, he could wash windows all the day
Oh where do ye fill your bucket, Mr Berry, tell me where
The auld ones all are jealous of its properties so rare
Do you get it straight from Lourdes
or from the Wicklow glens?
PLEASE LET’S in on your secret
when YOU’RE fillin’ it up again
LET’S in on your secret
When YOU’RE fillin’ it up again
I was told when he was young he’d had a terrible fall
The story it was well known all around the whole East Wall
But even at an early age he swore he’d never beg
He’d rather be climbing ladders with his wooden leg
Oh where do ye fill your bucket…
He’d ramble with his ladder, stretched across his bike
His bucket on the handlebars, dainty as ye like
Finishing on the Church Road each day at half past three
Winking at the auld ones who ask him in for tea
Oh where do ye fill your bucket..
If you’re having trouble with you warts or limping with your gout
It’s the best of medication of that there is no doubt
And even if your loved on has left without a trace
A rub of Berry’s chamois will put a smile back on your face
Molly Dunne says it’s the one for curing any ails
I’m sure she’s right; she’s never sick, as tough as bloody nails
If your husbands been neglecting you and hasn’t been doing it right
Just a few drops on your negligee and he’ll keep you up all night
Oh where do ye fill your bucket …