Tim Finegan's Wake (trad.)

Tim Finnegan lived in Watkin Street,
a gentleman Irish, mighty odd.
He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet,
and to rise in the world he carried a hod.
You see, he'd a sort of the tipplin' 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 creatur every morn.
Whack fol the dad, now dance to your partner,
welt the floor, your trotters shake.
Wasn't it the truth i told you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake.

One morning Tim felt rather full.
His head felt heavy, which made him shake.
He fell from the ladder and he broke his skull.
They carried him home, his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet,
and laid him out upon the bed,
With a gallon of whisky at his feet,
and a barrel of porter at this head.
Whack fol the dad, now dance to your partner,
welt the floor, your trotters shake.
Wasn't it the truth i told you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake.

His friends assembled at the wake,
and Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch.
First they brought in tay 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?"
"Oh, shut you gob," said Paddy Magee.
Whack fol the dad, now dance to your partner,
welt the floor, your trotters shake.
Wasn't it the truth i told you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake.

Then Maggie O'Connell took up the job,
"Oh, 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.
Shillelagh law was all the rage,
when the row and the ruction soon began.
Whack fol the dad, now dance to your partner,
welt the floor, your trotters shake.
Wasn't it the truth i told you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake.

Mick Maloney ducked his head when a bottle of whisky flew at him.
It missed, and landed on the bed,
the liquor scattered over Tim.
Tim revives, see how he rises.
Timothy risin' from the bed,
Sayin' "Whirl your whisky around like blazes!
Thanum an dial, do you think I'm dead?"
Whack fol the dad, now dance to your partner,
welt the floor, your trotters shake.
Wasn't it the truth i told you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake.