Oy, Danny Boy

Oy Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are leaking
From wall to wall and down the freaking side
The summer's hot and all the grass is dying
'Tis you, 'tis you, the plumber, who makes me cry

So come ye back on Monday with the fellows 
When the valley's humid and bupkis will grow 
And I'll be here, complaining and in sorrow 
Oy Danny boy, oy Danny boy, I loathe you so