What's The Matter With Your Feet - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
What's the Matter with Your Feet? Copyright, 1891, by Scott Washington & Co. Words and Music by Harry S. Miller. 
Just a week ago this very day we buried old McKough; Sure, he ought to have died a year ago, but that he didn't do; Arrah, we all went to the funeral, for we'd nowhere else to go, And I must confess, upon my life. It was an awful show; It was seen that McAnally never rode in style so neat; he couldn't keep his blessed boots down from off the seat; And it made the driver fighting mad, we saw that very well, And all along the street he'd stop his horses for to yell: 
Chorus. Ho, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feet? Hi, hi, there, McAnally, don't you let them go to sleep; You monkey-headed dagoe, take them down from off the scat; Ho, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feet? 
Soon we reached the cemetery, which was on the river side; Mac he said he'd have the driver's life that minute if he died; Soon as he leaped out from the carriage we saw murder in his eye, But the driver shut the other just as soon as he let fly; Then he clinched with McAnally and he gave him quick the foot, Down they went together with an Irish yell and whoop; You can bet that Mac was 'in it,' too, he never touched the ground, We couldn't help but shout at him as he had the driver down: 
Chorus. Ho, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feet? Hi, hi, there, McAnally, up and kick him down the street; You lazy-looking gossoon, would you spoil your hands so neat? IIo, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feet? 
Now the mourners they did gather round at such a sight as that. And they thought it was the native games-no funeral they were at; Arrah! they wrestled Graeco-Roman in a dozen styles or more, And sorra a bit they ever cared for coppers or the law; Now they fought out to the water's edge, the driver threw Mac in; he yelled for us to save him-sure, none of us could swim; We watched him struggling there awhile, he soon went out of sight, We threw him bricks and everything, and yelled with all our might: 
Chorus. Ho, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feel? Hi, Hi, there, McAnally, is the water very deep? You crazy-splashing dummy, keep your head from underneath; Ho, ho, there, McAnally, what's the matter with your feet?