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 rise in the he carried a hod.
Now Tim had a of the tipplin' way
With a love of for the poor Tim was born
And to help him on his work each day
a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn.

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

One mornin' Tim felt full
His head was heavy which made him
He from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a clean sheet
And him out upon the bed,
A gallon of at his feet
And a of porter at his head.

His friends assembled at the
And Mrs. called for lunch,
First brought in tay and cake
pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch.
Biddy O'Brien 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"
Biddy she gave her a in the gob
And her sprawlin' on the floor.
And then the war did soon
'Twas to woman and man to man,
law was all the rage
And a row and a soon 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!
rising from the bed,
Says,"Whirl your around like blazes
an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"