Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

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

()
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 Tim felt rather full
His felt heavy, which made him shake
He fell off his and he broke his skull
So carried him home, his corpse to wake
wrapped him up in a nice, clean sheet
And they laid him out there the bed
With a of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of at his head

()

His friends assembled at the
And Mrs called for lunch
First she them tay and cake
pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch

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

()

Then O'Harriton got the job:
"Biddy" she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy her a clapper upon the gob
And her sprawlin' 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 soon began

()

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