Well it’s twinkle, twinkle, little star Along came Brady in his ’lectric car He’s got a mean look right in his eye He’s gonna shoot somebody just to see ’em die 
ref: He’s been on the job too long 
Well, Duncan, Duncan was tending the bar Along comes Brady with his shining star And Brady says, "Duncan, you’re under arrest," Then Duncan shot a hole right in Brady’s chest 
Brady, Brady, Brady, well you know you done wrong Breakin’ in here while the games goin’ on You come a-breakin’ down the windows, And knockin’ down the door And now you’re lyin’ dead on the barroom floor 
Well, ol’ King Brady was a big fat man The Doctor reached down, grabbed a hold of his hand He felt for his pulse, then shook his head Said I believe into my soul, King Brady’s dead 
High tail carriages just a -tandin’ around To carry King Brady to the buryin’ ground Them rubber tired buggies, them rubber tired hacks They took him to the graveyard, never brung him back 
When the women all heard that King Brady was dead They went out a home and they be racked in red They come a-slipping’ and a-slidin’ and shufflin’ down the street In their big mother hubbards and their stockin’ feet 
file from: www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
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