Tim Finnegan lived in Watling street
A gentleman Irishman -- mighty odd
He'd a beautiul brogue, so rich and sweet
And to rise in the world, he carried the hod
But, you see he'd sort of a tipping way
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
And so to help him through with his work each day
He'd drop of the craythin' every morn

Chorus:
Whack; fol-de-dooh-dah, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, yer truthers shake
Isn't it the truth I've told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

One morning Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy, which made him shake
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
So they carried him home a corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
With fourteen candles round his feet
and a gallon of porter at his head

Chorus:
Whack; fol-de-dooh-dah, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, yer truthers shake
Isn't it the truth I've told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

His friends a__embled at his wake
Missus Finnegan called for the lunch
First they laid in tea and cake
Then pipes and tobacky and whiskey-punch
Miss Biddy O'Brien began to cry
'Such a dacent corpse did you ever see?
Arrah! Tim avourmeen, an why did ye die?'
'Ooh, none of your gab,' sez Billy Magee

Chorus:
Whack; fol-de-dooh-dah, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, yer truthers shake
Isn't it the truth I've told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

Then Peggy O'Connor took up the job
'Aargh! Biddy, says she, 'Ye'r wrong, I'm sure'
But Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob
And left her sprawling on the floor
Each side in war did soon engage
'Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shullelah law was all the rage
And a row and a rucus soon began

Chorus:
Whack; fol-de-dooh-dah, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, yer truthers shake
Isn't it the truth I've told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

Mikey Mulvaney raised his head
When a gallon of whiskey flew at him
It missed him -- and hopping on the bed
The liquor scattered all over Tim!
Bedad he revives! See how he rises!
An' Timothy, jumping from the bed
Cried, while he lathered round like blazes
'In the name of the devil, d'ye think I'm dead'

Chorus:
Whack; fol-de-dooh-dah, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, yer truthers shake
Isn't it the truth I've told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

See also:
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