Sittin’ on the Boardwalk

Sittin’ on the Boardwalk


I’m sittin’ on the boardwalk with a bottle in each hand and living it up and living it down and passing it all around.

Oh! I used to be hard working and I’d sweat from day to day, I never had no money and no time to even play. Uncle Sam and all his boys would try to run my life, they took my horse and buggy, they even took my wife.

Hey there Georgia give us another song, make it nice and sweet and sad, and make it very long. Sing about the story that O'Riley used to tell, the day he went and broke his leg and fell into the well.
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Sing about the wishing well and the endless pot of gold, or give us a hearty story, one that you’ve never told. Hey there Louie it’s time for another round, give us a bottle of Irish mist the pixies never found.

I’m sittin’ on the boardwalk with a bottle in each hand and living it up and living it down and passing it all around.
I used to sit and worry about the day that I would die, but now I know it’s coming, I don’t even have to cry. I’ve lived a life of fun and fame with tons of happy cheer, and if the end is coming I have no cause to fear.

I’m lookin’ at the pretty girls a swaying in the breeze, they’re stuffin’ up their empty bras and learning how to tease. The boys are chasing close behind with eager thoughts and dreams, for me it was a happy time, or so it really seems.

I never go a sailing on the blue and peaceful sea, for every time I turn around I really have to pee. I’m welded to a plastic seat at the end of every bar, knowing that a comfort room isn’t very far.

Hey there Sammy, if I should die in place, give’em all another round from old amazing grace. For… I’m sittin’ on the boardwalk with a bottle in each hand and living it up and living it down and passing it all around.