Tim lived in watling street A Irishman, mighty odd He'd a beautiful brogue so and sweet To rise in the world, he a hod
See, sort of a tipplin' way With love for the liquor poor Tim was To help him on his work each day He'd a of the craythur every morn'
fol, de, dah Now, to your partner Welt the floor, your shake Wasn't it the truth, told ye lots of fun At wake
One Tim got rather full His head felt heavy which him shake Fell from a ladder and he broke his They carried him home, his corpse to
him up in a nice clean sheet And laid him out the bed A gallon of whiskey at his And a of porter at his head
fol, de, dah Now, to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters Wasn't it the truth, they ye lots of fun At wake
His friends at the wake And misses Finnegan called for First she brought in tea and pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien to cry Such a clean corpse, did you ever see? Tim mavourneen, why did you Arrah, hold your gob, said Patty
fol, de, dah Now, dance to partner the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, they told ye of fun At wake
Then Maggie took up the job "Arrah", says, she ye're wrong, I'm sure then gave her a belt on the gob And her sprawling on the floor
There the war did engage to woman and man to man Shillelah law was all the An a row and a ruction began
fol, de, dah Now, to your partner the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, told ye lots of fun At wake
Mickey Maloney raised his head When a of whiskey flew at him It missed him on the bed The liquor over Tim
Tim revives, see how he Timothy rising the bed Then your whiskey around Like Thanum an Dhul Do ye I'm dead?