Old man Peter was a mighty man   Combed his hair with a frying pan   Washed his head in a wagon wheel   Died with a toothache in his heel      Sally, you just ain't no dog gone good   But I wouldn't get rid of you, Sally, if I could   Don't you send me no foul prayers   We'll play in a band while your little feet dance      I come home 'round a quarter to four   Saw you threw my food all over the floor   I see you walking down the street with a bottle in your hand   Looking for another drunkard to raise some sand