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tim finnegan’s wake

To the Irish! As copied from Wikipedia:

Tim Finnegan lived in Watlin 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 bit of the tipplers way
With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born
And to send him on his way each day
He had a drop of the Craythur every morn.

Whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

One mornin’ Tim felt rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake;
He fell from the ladder and broke his skull
And they carried him home his corpse to wake.
They wrapped him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed,
With a barrel of whiskey at his feet
And a gallon of porter at his head.

Whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

His friends assembled at the wake
And the widow Finnegan called for lunch,
First she laid out tay and a cake
Then pipes, tobacca’ and whiskey punch.
Then Biddy O’Brien began to cry
“Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?
Tim avourneen, why did you die?”,
“Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee!

Whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

Then Peggie O’Connor took up the job
“O Biddy,” says she, “You’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
And left her sprawlin’ on the floor.
‘then the war did soon engage
It was woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began.

Whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!

Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and landed on the bed
And the whiskey scattering over Tim!
Bedad he revives and see how he rises
Timothy risin’ from the dead,
Says, “Flingin that whiskey around like blazes”
“Thunderin’ Jesus do you think I’m dead?”

Whack fol the dah O, dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn’t it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s wake!