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