Pendennis McGuire had worked hard all day.
From morning till night had been pitching the hay.
He felt hot and tired; he coughed and he wheezed.
Pendennis McGuire the coffee pot seized.

He filled up the coffee pot out at the pump:
Then sat himself down on an old oaken stump.
He rested the coffee pot brim full of water,
Upon a flat rock; alas he'd not oughter.
The coffee pot brought a fat bucket of sorrow.
Pendennis McGuire must die ere tomorrow.

His friend Micky Flannigan, passing that way:
Called out, "Hi Pendennis McGuire, you jay;
Come help me along, I'm in need of a crutch;
You see, I have taken a wee drop too much."

Pendennis McGuire, obligingly quick,
Assisted his friend, the great Flannigan Mick.
Escorted him safe to his home on the plain.
Forgetting his own little nest in the lane.

A blithe squirming centipede; smilingly smug.
With ears pointed forward; inscrutable bug!
All weary with walking, with legs full of kinks.
Now closes his eyes and takes forty-two winks.

Oh innocent slumber, refreshing, reviving.
So mystical, cristical, blue devil driving.
The Grand Mucky Muck brings the High Rinky Dink!
The centipede wakes and then calls for a drink.

The coffee pot gleams, 'tis of double blocked tin.
The bug scents the sparkling water within.
He raises his head, makes a hop, in he dashes.
And up to his chin in the liquid he splashes.

The coffee pot makes a superb swimming pool.
Refreshing, relaxing, delightfully cool.
The centipede drinks to his fill with delight.
Then crawls up the spout and declares it, "All right."
He stretches himself almost ready to bust.
Shuts his eyes; takes a nap; the sleep of the just.

The clouds overhead become blacker and blacker.
Stentorian tones ring out, "back her quick, smack her."
Wagon wheels grate, causing bright sparks of fire.
Out jumps the hero; Pendennis McGuire.

Pendennis McGuire, staggering, weary;
Wild staring and glaring, bloodshot and bleary.
Rum-sodden, quarrelsome, ready to burst. He
Looks for the coffee pot, desperate, thirsty.

There on the rock, gleams the coffee pot, dim.
Flowing with water, quite up to the brim.
Pendennis McGuire grabs quick at the handle.
I fear he is burning both ends of his candle.

He places the spout of the coffee pot deep,
Down his throat, takes a drink, gives a choke, then a leap.
Oh horror of horrors, unfortunate gulp!
His gullet is chuck full of poisonous pulp.
Pendennis McGuire, your chance is now zero.
The centipede gets in its work like a hero.

The centipede sticks in his throat, out of reach.
It can't be choked up; it sticks like a leech.
Pendennis McGuire falls down in a spasm.
Then gives in his checks for eternity's chasm.
His cat runs away; his dog has a cry.
And this is the end of Pendennis; poor guy!

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