Luyện nghe bài hát Tim Finnigan's Wake

Tim lived in Walkin' Street
A gentle Irishman odd;
a beautiful 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 liquor poor Tim was
And to help him on with his each day
a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.

Whack fol the darn O, to your partner
Whirl the floor, your shake;
Wasn't it the truth I you
Lots of fun at wake!

One mornin' Tim felt full
His head was which made him shake;
He fell the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his to wake.
rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And him out upon the bed,
A of whiskey at his feet
And a of porter at his head.

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

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

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