Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

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

Whack fol the dah do now dance with your
the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the I tell you,
of fun at Finnegan's Wake

One morning Tim felt full,
his ole' head felt heavy which him shake
well, he fell off the and he broke his skull,
then they carried him home his to wake
oh, they wrapped him up in a nice sheet,
and they him out upon the bed
with a gallon of whiskey at his
and a bucket of porter at his

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

Then Maggie O'Conner up the job,
And Biddy "you're wrong, for sure"
well, Biddy fixed her with a in the gob
and her sprawling 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 soon

Then Maloney he ducked his head
when a of whiskey flew 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
whirl whiskey around like place
Thanum an Dhul!, do ye I was dead?"

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