"Finnegan's Wake" Videos
Tim Finnegan lived in Wattling Street
A gentle Irishman mighty odd
He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet
To rise in the world he carried a hod
See he'd sort of a tripling way
With love for a liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each 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 laided 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 you
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 punch
Biddy O'Brien begged to cry
Such a nice clean corpse did you see
Aye, Tim me boy, oh why did you die?
Arrah shut yo
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