Traditional Irish folk song.
Found in The Big Book of Irish Songs (Hal Leonard).
Lyrics
- Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin’ Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod
Now Tim had a sort o’ the tipplin’ way
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each day
He’d a “drop o’ the craythur” every morn
Chorus
Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake
- One mornin’ Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy, which made him shake
He fell from a ladder and he broke his skull
And they carried him home, his corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head - His friends assembled at the wake
And Missus Finnegan called for lunch
First they brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco, and whiskey punch
Biddy O’Brien began to cry
“Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see
Oh, Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?”
“Arragh, hold your gob?” said Paddy McGhee - Then Maggie O’Connor took up the job
“Oh, Biddy” says she “you’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy, she gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawlin’ on the floor
And then the war did soon engage
T’was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelaigh law was all the rage
And a row and ruction soon began - Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim
The corpse revives, see how he rises
Timothy, rising from the bed
Said, “Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
Thanum an Dhul! Do you think I’m dead?”
Sung here by Fred Feild: