Finnigan's Wake

The Kerry Boys - Live In The Studio


Tim Finnigan lived in Walkin' street, agentle Irishman, very odd He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet, to rise in the world he carried a hod You see he'd a sort of a tipplin' way, with the love of the liquor poor Tim was born To help him on his work each day, He'd a drop of the craythur every morn Chorus Whack fol the da now dance with your partner Welt the floor your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth I told you Lot's of fun at Finnigans wake One mornin' Tim was very full, His head felt heavy which made him shake He fell from a 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 His friends assembled at the wake, And Mrs. Finnigan called for lunch First she 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 Mavoureen why did you die, Argh! hold your gob said Paddy McGhee The Maggei O'Conor took up the job, Oh Biddy, says she, your 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 Shelelaigh law was all the rage, and a row and a ruction soon began 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 rises, Timothy risin' from the bed Said whirl your whiskey 'round like blazes, Thanuman dial do you think I'm dead