Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

Tim Finnegan on Walkin Street,
A Irish mighty odd
well, he had a brogue both and sweet,
An' to rise in the world he a hod
Well, he had a bit of a way
with a love for the poor Tim was born
And to him on his way each day,
a drop of the craythur every morn

Whack fol the dah do now dance with partner
whirl the floor your trotters
Isn't it the truth I you,
lots of fun at Finnegan's

One morning Tim rather full,
his head felt heavy which made him shake
well, he fell off the ladder and he his skull,
they carried him home his corpse to wake
oh, they him up in a nice clean sheet,
and they him out upon the bed
with a gallon of at his feet
and a of porter at his head

Well, his friends at the wake,
and missus Finnegan called for
well, first she out tea and cake,
then pipes and tobacco and punch
Then the widow began to cry,
"Such a nice, clean corpse, you ever seen,
Tim my boy why did you die?",
well, "Hold gob." says Mother McGee

Then Maggie O'Conner up the job,
And Biddy "you're wrong, for sure"
well, fixed her with a belt in the gob
and sent her on the floor
then a civil war did engage,
it was to woman and man to man
law was all the rage
and a row and a ruction began

Then Mickey he ducked his head
when a bottle of whiskey at him
It ducked, and on the bed,
well, scattering over Tim
Be dad it him see how he rises
Tim rising in the bed
Sayin whirl whiskey around like
an Dhul!, do ye think I was dead?"

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