Mr. Valentine's dead, and he's drinking Manhattans, singing a coal miner's tune.
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In his daddy's tuxedo and Fred Astaire shoes, he's the best looking corpse in the room.
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Mr. Valentine's dead, and the angels are waiting down at the end of the bar.
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They're drinking martinis and laughing at nothing, smoking Habana cigars.
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(chorus)
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Have you ever seen dead men dancing so lightly?
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Have you ever heard corpses who sing?
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Mr. Valentine's dead and the angels will take him,
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But not 'till he's finished his drink!
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Mr. Valentine's dead, but it won't slow him down. He's determined to stay on his feet.
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And he bangs on the table and orders a round, and he pays with the gold in his teeth.
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Mr. Valentine's dead, and he's singing in Spanish, wearing a rose in his hair.
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Now the angels are howling and drinking tequila, shooting their guns in the air.
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(repeat chorus)
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Mr. Valentine's dead, but he still loves a party. He's always the last one to leave.
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He hangs down his head and he cries like a baby when the band plays Good Night Irene.
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Mr. Valentine's dead, but he never looked better! The priest will meet him tonight.
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Tell his mom to stop crying and the band to keep playing, 'cause the angels are too drunk to fly!
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(repeat chorus)
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Mr. Valentines Dead
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| The Town Pants |
