Tim Finnegan lived on Walker Street And a gentle, Irishman, mighty odd; He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet And to rise in the world he carried a hod You see he'd a sort o' the tipplin' way With a love of the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on with his work each day He'd a "drop of the cray-thur" every morn (Chorus:) Whack fol the die do, dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake; Wasn't it the truth I told you Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake! 2. One mornin' Tim was 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 rolled him up in a nice clean sheet And laid him out upon the bed With a gallon of whiskey at his feet And a barrel of porter at his head (Chorus:) 3. His friends a**embled at the wake And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch
First they brought in tea and cake Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch Biddy O'Brien began to cry "Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see? "Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?" "Arragh, hold your gob" said Paddy McGee! (Chorus:) 4. Then Maggie 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 And then the war did soon engage 'Twas woman to woman and man to man Shillelagh law was all the rage And the row and eruption soon began (Chorus:) 5. Then Mickey Maloney raised his head When a noggin of whiskey flew at him It missed, and fallin' on the bed The liquor scattered over Tim! Tim revives! See how he raises! Timothy rising from the bed Says,"Whirl your whiskey around like blazes Thanum o'n Dhoul! Did you think I'm dead?" (Chorus:)