The Famac Vanby John McMenamin Wee Paddy, got up early
Boiled a duck egg in a pan
And made himself presentable
To meet the Famac van. No more would he be lonely
A single man of 63
When the Famac van, came to his door
A different man he’d be. Wee Paddy, shaved the stubble
From his auld ugly face
The Famac van would ensure that he
Could propagate the race. No more nights of sitting
Listening to the ticking clock
Paddy’s ears were like a race horse
Waiting for the Famac knock. Paddy, wore an auld black suit
That he’d often wore before
His auld father, left it to him
When he died--in 84. It was saggy, it was baggy
Cause wee Paddy, was so thin
The zip was broke, so to close the yoke
Wee Paddy, used a pin. Wee Paddy, combed what hair he had
“till it shone just like the sun
He used the same oil on his bicycle
A can of, Three in one”. His dentures, they were soaking
In a jam jar with some bleach
When the Famac van, came to his door
Love, would be in his reach. Wee Paddy, cleaned his Wellingtons
With an auld potato bag
To cure his nerves, he filled his pipe
With a damned good bowl of shag. Paddy, sat down with a tattered book
To do a bit of reading
When the Famac van, came to the house
He could get down to some breeding. Wee Paddy, squinted at the book
Through the one eye of his specs
He kept the book, beneath the bed
It was called, - “The Joy Of Sex” . A van came rattlin’ down the lane
The horn it gave a blast
Wee Paddy, cried, “Be-jesus”
“It’s the Famac man, at last”. The driver, called out “Paddy”
“I’ve got a box for you”
Well, this is it, thought Paddy
It’s too late now to rue. Wee Paddy, opened up the box
With a great big carving knife
And out then jumped a wee brown girl
--A philippino wife. Wee Paddy’ looked her up and down
She really was a honey
Wee Paddy, said “She’s very small
--You don’t get much for your money” . Then wee Paddy, started breeding
Like the rabbits and the hares
Wee Paddy, was always, going up
Or coming down the stairs. And, soon a lot of wee brown boys
Were playing in the bogs
But it was too much for wee Paddy
And wee Paddy, popped his clogs. Wee Paddy, lay there in the bed
While his auld grave was dug
And there was a smile of satisfaction
On wee Paddy’s, ugly mug. They buried Paddy in the bog
Beside some granite rocks
There was no money, for a coffin
So they used the Famac box. The tombstone read, Here’s Paddy
A decent, honest man
His life was cruelly taken
By a big, white, Famac van. Wee Paddy, lies there in the bog
In one hand is his specs
His right hand, holds a tattered book
The well thumbed, “Joy Of Sex”. So if you’re getting on a bit
And looking for a wife
Stay away from the Famac van
Or you may lose—your life. So, here’s to little Paddy
Who had a cunning plan
The joy of sex, in a cardboard box
Inside a Famac van.
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