Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street

A gentle Irishman mighty odd;

Had a beautiful brogue both rich and sweet

To rise in the world he carried a hod.



Now Tim had a sort of a tipplin' way

With a love for the liquor Tim was born

To help him on with his w

ork each day

Had 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 mornin' Tim felt rather full

His head was heavy which made him shake;

He fell from the ladder and broke his skull

And they carried him hom his corpse to wake.

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 h

ead.

(Chorus)

His friends assempled at the wake

And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch.

First she brought in tay and cake;

Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.

Biddy O'Brien began to cry,

"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?

"O Tim, mavaourneen,

why did you die?"

Arragh, hold your 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 sprawlin' on the floor.

Then the war did soon enga

ge

'Twas woman to woman and man to man,

Shillelagh law was all the rage

And a row and a ruction 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 liqor scattered over Tim!

The corpse revives! See how he rises!

Timothy rising from the bed,

Sayin', "Whirl your whiskey around like blazes

Thanum an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"