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Debra Cowan
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Dad's Dinner Pail
Preserve that old kettle, so black and so worn; It belonged to my father before I was born; It hung in a corner beyond on a nail 'Twas the emblem of labor, my dad's dinner pail
CHORUS: For it glistened like silver, so sparkling and bright; I am fond of the trifle that held his wee bite; In summer or winter, in snow, rain or hail, I've carried that kettle, my dad's dinner pail.
When the bell rang for mealtime my father'd come down — He'd eat with the workmen about on the ground; He'd share with the laborer and he'd go the bail, You'd never reach the bottom of dad's dinner pail. CHORUS Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com
If the day should be rainy my fathe'd stop home, And he'd polish his kettle as clane as a stone; He'd joke with my mother and me he would whale If I put a finger on dad's dinner pail. CHORUS
There's a place for the coffee and also for bread, The corned beef and praties, and oft it was said: 'Go fill it with porter, with beer or with ale;' The drink would taste sweeter from dad's dinner pail. CHORUS
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