Tim Finnegan lived in street A Irishman, mighty odd He'd a brogue so rich and sweet To rise in the world, he a hod
See, he'd sort of a way With love for the poor Tim was born To help him on his work each day He'd a drop of the craythur every
fol, de, dah Now, dance to partner Welt the floor, your trotters it the truth, they told ye lots of fun At Finnegan's
One morning Tim got full His felt heavy which made him shake Fell a ladder and he broke his skull They him home, his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice sheet And him out upon 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 ye lots of fun At wake
His assembled at the wake And misses called for lunch First she in tea and cake Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey
Biddy O'Brien to cry Such a nice corpse, did you ever see? Tim mavourneen, why did you Arrah, hold gob, said Patty Megee
fol, de, dah Now, to your 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, dance to partner the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth, told ye lots of fun At wake
Then Mickey Maloney his head When a bottle of flew 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 blazes an Dhul Do ye I'm dead?