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[JimH]

It was a busy, busy day.  These lyrics from an Irish song pretty much sum it up.
The song is called "Why Paddy's Not at Work Today".

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Dear Sir I write this note to you to tell you of my plight
For at the time of writing I am not a pretty sight
My body is all black and blue, my face a deathly grey
And I write this note to say why Paddy's not at work today.

Whilst working on the fourteenth floor,some bricks I had to clear
To throw them down from such a height was not a good idea
The foreman wasn't very pleased, the bloody awkward sod
He said I had to cart them down the ladders in my hod.

Now clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow
So I hoisted up a barrel and secured the rope below
But in my haste to do the job, I was too blind to see
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.

And so when I untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead
And clinging tightly to the rope I started up instead
I shot up like a rocket till to my dismay I found
That half way up I met the bloody barrel coming down.

Well the barrel broke my shoulder, as to the ground it sped
And when I reached the top I banged the pulley with my head
I clung on tightly, numb with shock, from this almighty blow
And the barrel spilled out half the bricks, fourteen floors below.

Now when these bricks had fallen from the barrel to the floor
I then outweighed the barrel and so started down once more
Still clinging tightly to the rope, my body racked with pain
When half way down, I met the bloody barrel once again.

The force of this collision, half way up the office block
Caused multiple abrasions and a nasty state of shock
Still clinging tightly to the rope I fell towards the ground
And I landed on the broken bricks the barrel scattered round.

I lay there groaning on the ground I thought I'd passed the worst
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst
A shower of bricks rained down on me, I hadn't got a hope
As I lay there bleeding on the ground, I let go the bloody rope.

The barrel then being heavier then started down once more
And landed right across me as I lay upon the floor
It broke three ribs, and my left arm, and I can only say
That I hope you'll understand why Paddy's not at work today.

[JustinChase]

Ouch

[Michael Horton]

[Trad. arr. Tim Hart]

Tim Hart and Maddy Prior recorded this song for their second duo album Folk Songs Of Old England Vol 2.

Lyrics
There were once two Irish labouring men; to England they came over;
And they tramped about in search of work from Liverpool to Dover.
Says Mike to Pat, “I'm tired of this; we're both left in the lurch;
And if I don't get work, bedad, I'll go and rob a church.”
“What, rob a church!” says Pat to Mike; “How could you be so vile?
For something sure would happen while wer're going down the aisle.
But if you do I'll go with you; and we'll get safe out, I hope;”
So, listen and I'll tell you now how Paddy stole the rope.

While off they went with theft intent to the place they wanted finding;
And they broke inside of a country church where nobody was minding.
And they scraped together all they could, they were prepared to slope,
When Paddy says, “Now hold on, Mike, what have we got for rope?
For we have no bag to hold our swag, and before we get outside,
With something strong and stout, my lad, this bundle must be tied.”
And just then he spied the church bell rope, and before you could turn about,
He did ride up the belfry high to climb that rope so stout.

And holding on by one hand and leg, he pulled his clasp knife out,
And right above his hand and head he cut that rope so stout.
Well, he quite forgot it held him up, and, by the Holy Pope,
Down to the bottom of the church fell Paddy and the rope.

“Come out of that,” says Mike to Pat, “and will you stop your moaning,
“If that's the way you steal a rope, it's no wonder that you're groaning.
I'll show you how to steal the rope, if you lend to me your knife.”
“O Mike, go easy,” says old Pat, “or else you'll lose your life.”
So Mike climbed up the other rope, just like an antelope
But instead of cutting it off above, he cut it off below.
Down fell the other piece of rope and Mike was left on high.
“Come down”, says Pat. “I can't,” says Mick, “for if I drop, I'll die.”

Well their noise it brought the beagles out, the sexton and police,
And though they got poor Micky down, they spared them no release.
And for their ingenuity they have now a wider scope
Than when they broke inside a church to go and steal the rope.