Luyện nghe bài hát Tim Finnigan's Wake

Tim lived in Walkin' Street
A gentle mighty odd;
He'd a brogue both rich and sweet
And to in the world he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a sort of the way
With a love of for the poor Tim was born
And to him on with his work each day
He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" morn.

Whack fol the darn O, dance to partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters
it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at wake!

One mornin' Tim rather full
His head was which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and his skull
And they carried him his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice sheet
And laid him out the bed,
A gallon of whiskey at his
And a barrel of at his head.

His assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan for lunch,
First brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and punch.
O'Brien began to cry
"Such a nice corpse, did you ever see?
"O Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?"
Arragh, your gob said Paddy McGhee!

Maggie O'Connor took up the job
"O Biddy," she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
she gave her a belt in the gob
And her sprawlin' on the floor.
And the war did soon engage
woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the
And a row and a ruction began.

Then Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of flew at him,
It missed, and on the bed
The liquor scattered Tim!
The revives! See how he raises!
Timothy from the bed,
Says,"Whirl your whiskey like blazes
an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"