Luyện nghe bài hát Finnegan's Wake

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin
A gentle Irishman, odd
He had a brogue both and sweet
An' to rise in the he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a way
But the love for the liquor poor Tim was
And to help him on his way day
He'd a drop of the every morn

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

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

()

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

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

()

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 the war did soon engage
It was woman to and man to man
Shillelagh law, did all
And a row and a ruction began

()

Then Maloney ducked his head
When a bucket of whiskey at him
It missed, and on the bed
And the whisky over 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?"