A Horrible Tale Of The Suicidal Family - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
A Horrible Tale of the Suicidal Family 
Oh! a horrible tale I have to tell, Of sad disasters that befell A family, that once resided Just in the very same thoroughfare its I did. The parent was so grim a guffin. He never liked no fun nor nuffin; And he never made the least endeavor To make a joke not what-sum-de-ver. 
Chorus. For. oh! it is such a norrible tale, 'Twill make vour faces all turn pale; Your eyes with grief will be overcome, Tweedfe, twaddle, twiddle, twiddle twum. 
They never saw no compa-nee, Tho they was a most respectable fa-mi-lee; And ev'ry boy and ev'ry gal Grew hy-go-con-der-i-cal; They thought they had all sorts of sorrows, And conjured up all kinds of horrors; Each had a face as long as a ladder, And was frightened in-to tits if they see their own shadder.-Chorus 
They sat with their cur-tains drawn down tight, On purpose to keep out the light; Father, mother, sister and bro-ther, Never spoke a word to one another; Well, at last, this doleful, dismal lot, So very me-lan-cho-ly got. That to end their-selves they did agree, When they had settled which end it was to be.-Chorus. 
First the father into the garden did walk, And cut his throat with a lump of chalk; Then the mother an end to herself she put, By hanging of herself in the water-butt; Then the sister went down on her bended knees, And smothered herself with toasted cheese; But the brother who was a determined young fellar, Went and poisoned himself with his umbrella.-Chorus. 
Then the little baby in the cradle, Shot itself dead with the silver-ladle; While the servant-girl, seeing what they did, Strangled herself with the saucepan-lid; The miserable cat by the kitchen-fire, Swallowed a portion of the fender and did expire; And a fly on the ceiling-this was the just 'un-Went and blowed itself up with spontaneous combustion.-Chorus 
Then in there walked the auctioneer, Who did with the furniture disappear; And the broker's man, this ain't no fable. Made himself away with a three-legged table; When the walls saw this, their sides they split, 
The windows cracked themselves to bits; And so universal was the slaughter-rate, There was nothing left at all but an unpaid water-rate.-Chorus. 
Moral. So here's a moral, if you choose, Don't never give way