Finnegan's Wake

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irish, mighty odd
He had a brouge both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod
Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love of whiskey he was born
And to help him out with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn

Chorus:
Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

One morning Tim was feeling full
His head was heavy which made him shake
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head

Chorus

His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch
First they brought in tea and cake,
Then pipes, tobacco, and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to bawl
Such a nice clean corpse did you ever see?
O Tim, mavoureen, why did you die?
Arragh, hold you gob said Paddy McGhee!

Chorus

Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job
O Biddy, says she, you're wrong I'm sure
Biddy she gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawling on the floor
And then the war did soon engage
Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a runction soon began

Chorus

Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him
It missed and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim!
The corpse revives! See how he raises!
Timothy rising from the bed
Say, Whirl your whiskey 'round like blazes
Thanum an' Dhul! Do you think I'm dead?!

Chorus

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