Irish Song Lyrics 
from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
FINNEGAN'S WAKE 
Ah Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, A gentleman Irish mighty odd Well he had a tongue both rich and sweet, An' to rise in the world he carried a hod Ah but Tim had a sort of tipplin way With the love of the liquor he was born And to send him on his way each day, He'd a drop of the craythur ev'ry morn 
Chorus 
Whack fol the dah will ya dance to yer parner around the flure yer trotters shake Wasn'-n't it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake 
One morning Tim was rather full His head felt heavy which made him shake He fell off the ladder and he broke his skull And they carried him home his corpse to wake Well they rolled him up in a nice clean sheet And they laid him out upon the bed With a bottle of whiskey at his feet And a barrel of porter at his head 
Well his friends assembled at the wake And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch Well first they brought in tay and cake The pipes, tobacco and brandy punch Then Widow Malone began to cry 'Such a lovely corpse, did you ever see Arrah, Tim avourneen, why did you die?' 'Will ye hould your gob?' said Molly McGee 
Well Mary O'Connor took up the job 'Biddy' says she 'you're wrong, I'm sure' Well Biddy gave her a belt in the gob And left her sprawling on the floor Well civil war did then engage Woman to woman and man to man Shillelagh law was all the rage And a row and a runction soon began 
Well Tim Maloney raised his head When a bottle of whiskey flew at him He ducked and, landing on the bed The whiskey scattered over Tim Bedad he revives, see how he rises Tim Finnegan rising in the bed Saying 'Whittle your whiskey around like blazes T'underin' Jaysus, do ye think I'm dead?'