Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

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

()
Whack fol the dah, now dance with your
Around the floor, your trotters
it the truth, I tell you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's

One morning Tim rather full
His felt heavy, which made him shake
He off his ladder and he broke his skull
So they carried him home, his corpse to
They wrapped him up in a nice, sheet
And they laid him out upon the bed
a bottle of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of at his head

()

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

Biddy O'Brien began to
"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 gave her a upon the gob
And sent her on the floor
T'was then the war did soon
It was to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law, did all
And a row and a ruction began

()

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