Tim finnegan lived in watling street

A gentle irishman mighty odd

He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet

To rise in the world he carried a hod

You see he'd sort of a tippling way

With love for a liquor poor tim was born

To help him on with his work every day

He'd a drop of the craythor every morn'

One morning tim was rather full

His head felt heavy which made him shake

Fell from the ladder and broke his skull

So they carried him home his corpse to wake

Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet

And laid him upon the bed

A bottle of whiskey at his feet

And a gallon of porter at his head

And whack fol-de-dah now dance to your partner

Welt the floor, your trotters shake

Wasn't it the truth I told ya

Lots of fun at finnegan's wake

His friends assembled at his wake

And missus finnegan called for lunch

First they brought in tay and cake

Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey and punch

Biddy o'brien began to cry

Such a nice clean corpse did you ever did see

Tim mavourneen, why did you die?

Hold your gob said paddy mcgee.

And whack fol-de-dah now dance to your partner

Welt the floor, your trotters shake

Wasn't it the truth I told ya

Lots of fun at finnegan's wake.

Then peggy o'connor took up the job

Biddy she says you're wrong I'm sure

Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob

And left her sprawling on the floor

Then the war did soon engage

Woman to woman and man to man

Shillelah law was all the rage

And a row and a ruction soon began

Mickey maloney he raised his head

When a bottle of whiskey flew at him

It missed him falling on the bed

The liquor scattered over tim

Tim revives see how he rises

Timothy rising from the bed

Whirl your whiskey around like blazes

Thanum an dhul, do ye think I'm dead.

And whack fol-de-dah now dance to your partner

Welt the floor, your trotters shake

Wasn't it the truth I told ya

Lots of fun at finnegan's wake.

[X2]