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

SUBMIT CORRECTIONS