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Irish music hall tune from the mid 1800s often played by the Dubliners

Finnegan's Wake

by trad
Tim [G] Finnegan lived in [Em] Walkin Street,
a [C] gentle Irishman [D] mighty odd
He [G] had a brogue both [Em] rich and sweet,
an' to [C] rise in the world he [D] carried a [G] hod
You [G] see he'd a sort of the [Em] tipplin way,
with the [G] love for the liquor poor [Em] Tim was born
To [G] help him with his [Em] work each day,
he'd a [C] drop of the craythur [D] every [G] morn

[G] Whack fol the dah now [Em] dance to your partner
[C] Welt the floor your [D] trotters shake
[G] Wasn't it the [Em] truth I told you?
[C] Lots of fun at [D] Finnegan's [G] Wake

One morning Tim got rather full,
his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull,
and they carried him home his corpse to wake
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet,
and laid him out upon the bed
A bottle of whiskey at his feet
and a barrel of porter at his head


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?"
"Ah, hold your gob!" said Paddy McGee


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 sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage,
t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
and a row and a ruction soon began


Mickey Maloney ducked his head
when a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed,
the liquor scattered over Tim
O! Tim revives, see how he rises,
Timothy rising from the bed!
Saying "Whirl your whiskey around like blazes,
thunderin' Jesus, do ye think I'm dead?"

Chorus x2