Finnegan's Wake
Tim Finnegan lived on Walking Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
He'd a beautiful brogue so rich an sweet
and to rise in the world he'd carried a hod (club)
You see, he'd a sort of the tipp'lin way
with a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each day
He'd a drop of the Craythur ev'ry morn
Whack fol the da, now dance to your partner
Whelt the floor your trotters shake
Wasn't it the true, I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
One mornin Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake
He fell from a ladder and he broke his skull
and they carried him home his corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
and layed him out upon the bed
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
and a barrel of porter at his head
His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch
first they brought in tea and cakes
then pipes, tobacco and whisky punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry
"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?"
"Tim Mavourneen, why did you die?"
"Arrach, Hold yer gob!" says Paddy McGhee
Then Maggie O'Conner took up the job
"O'Biddy" says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
and left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage
Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shelalaigh law was all the rage
and a row and a ruction soon began
Then Mickey Maloney raised his head
when a noggin of whiskey flew at him
it missed and falling on the bed
the liquor scattered over Tim
Tim revives, see how he rises
Timothy rising from the bed
Said, "Whirl your whiskey around like blazes"
"Thanum an dial do you think I'm dead?"