As Performed by Tramps and Hawkers
Tim Finnegan lived on Walkin' Street
A gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue so rich and sweet
To rise in the world he carried a hod (What's a hod?!)
Now he had a sort of the tipplin' way
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on in his work every day
A drop of the "cray-thur" every morn
One mornin' Tim was feelin' foul
His head was heavy which made him shake
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake (Wake up!!!)
They wrapped him up in a clean white sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
With a barrel of porter at his feet and a bottle of whiskey at his head
Chorus:
Whack fol the darn -O
Dance to your partner
Whirl the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told you?
Lot's of fun at Finnegan's wake
His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch (Lunch!!)
First they brought out tea and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brian began to bawl
"Such a nice clean corpse have you ever seen?
O Tim Mavourneed why did you die?"
"Hold your gob!" said Paddy McGee"
Chorus
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job
"Biddy," she said "You're wrong I'm sure."
Biddy gave her a belt on the jaw
And left her sprawlin on the floor.
And then the war did soon engage
It was woman to woman (Cat Fight!)
and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruckus soon began
Chorus
Then Mickey Maloney he ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him
It missed and splattered on the bed
The whiskey splattered over Tim
The courpse revives, see how he raises
Tim Finnegan rising from the bed
Says "Whirl your whiskey round like blazes?
Sufferin' Jesus! You think I'm dead?"
Chorus