Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street 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 of the tipplin' way With the love of the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on with his work each day He'd a drop of the craythur1every morn.
Whack fol the da, now, 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
One mornin' Tim got rather full His head felt heavy, which made him shake He fell from the 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.
Whack fol the da, now, 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
His friends assembled at the wake And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch. First she 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? Tim Mavourneen, why did you die?” “Arrah hold your gob,” said Paddy McGee.
Whack fol the da, now, 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
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job “Ah Biddy,” says she, “you're wrong, I'm sure” Biddy gave her a belt in the gob And left her sprawling on the floor. Then the war did soon engage Woman to woman and man to man Shillelagh law was all the rage And a row and a ruction soon began.
Whack fol the da, now, 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
Then Mickey Moloney raised his head When a noggin of whiskey flew at him It missed, and falling on the bed The liquor scattered over Tim. Tim revives, see how he rises Timothy rising from the bed Said “Whirl your whiskey around like blazes D'anam 'an diabhail2 do you think I'm dead?”
Whack fol the da, now, 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
1. whiskey, string drink. From Irish “créatúr” (“creature”), as in the English expression “creature comforts.” Spelled a variety of ways to suggest local Irish pronunciation. 2. Irish: “your soul to the Devil.” Sometimes they sing “thundering Jaysus” or other mild oaths instead of the Irish phrase.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
