American Old Time Song Lyrics: 46 I Have No Use For Donovan

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 46

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Copyright, 1894. by Spaulding & Gray..
Words and Music by Wm. Van.

There's a man that we call Donovan, who lives down on our street,
And Donovan, he's a loafer-yes, Donovan he's a beat;
He gets up in the morning and steals our coal and wood,
And some day Donovan will get his-I'd laugh now if he should.

For I have no use for Donovan, and he has no use for me,
And Donovan is an Indian when he goes on a spree;
The gang are all afraid of him-some day I'll get an axe.
And when no one is looking, I will break poor Donovan's back.
Oh! Donovan, you do not know your fate.
If you did, at your funeral you'd be late;
McCloskey, he is grieving-your grave he longs to see-
The day they bury Donovan will be Fourth of July for me.

One night I went with Donovan, to play a came of cards.
Says I, "Now we'll play poker out in our big back yard;
But soon the game did burst up-as sure as you're alive,
I had four aces in my hand, but Donovan be held five.

Oh, I have no use for Donovan-he's a robber and a beat;
I'd not look at his funeral if it passed down the street;
Although I'm not a fighter, don't talk to waste my breath,
For a birthday present, let me read the news of Donovan's death.
Oh! Donovan, you do not know your fate.
If you did, now the town you would vacate;
We'll give you a nice service if you'll consent to die-
The day they bury Donovan, there'll be diamonds in the sky.
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