Luyện nghe bài hát Tim Finnigan's Wake

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

Whack fol the darn O, to your 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 heavy which him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his
And carried him home his corpse to wake.
They rolled him up in a nice clean
And him out upon the bed,
A gallon of at his feet
And a of porter at his head.

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

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

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