Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

Tim Finnegan in Walkin Street
A gentle Irishman, odd
He had a brogue rich and sweet
An' to rise in the he carried a hod
You see a sort of a tipplers way
But the for the liquor poor Tim was born
And to him on his way each day
He'd a drop of the craythur morn

()
Whack fol the dah, now dance your partner
Around the floor, your shake
Isn't it the truth, I you?
Lots of fun at Wake

One morning Tim felt rather
His felt heavy, which made him shake
He fell off his and he broke his skull
So they carried him home, his corpse to
They him up in a nice, clean sheet
And they him out there upon the bed
With a bottle of at his feet
And a of porter at his head

()

His friends at the wake
And Mrs called for lunch
First she served them tay and
Then pipes, and whiskey punch

Biddy began to cry:
"Such a nice corpse, did you ever see
Tim avourneen, why did you die?"
"Will ye hould gob?" said Paddy McGee

()

Ginny O'Harriton got the job:
"Biddy" she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy her a clapper upon the gob
And sent her on the floor
T'was the war did soon engage
It was woman to and man to man
law, did all engage
And a row and a ruction began

()

Then Mickey Maloney his head
When a of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and on the bed
And the whisky splattered poor old Tim
he revives, now see him rise
Tim Finnegan and up in the bed
Throwin' the whiskey the place
"T'underin' Jaysus, do ye I'm dead?"