The Town Pants - Tim Finnigan's Wake lyrics

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street A gentle Irishman mighty odd; He'd a beautiful brogue both rich and sweet And to rise in the world he carried a hod Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin' way With a love of for 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 Whack fol the darn O, dance to your partner Whirl 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 was 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 A gallon of whiskey at his feet And a barrel of porter at his head His friends a**embled at the wake And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch First they 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? "O Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?" Arragh, hold your gob said Paddy McGhee! Then Maggie O'Connor took up the job "O Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure" Biddy she 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 a row and a ruction soon began Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head When a noggin of whiskey flew at him It missed, and falling on the bed The liquor scattered over Tim! The corpse revives! See how he raises! Timothy rising from the bed Says,"Whirl your whiskey around like blazes Thanum an Dhul! Do you thunk I'm dead?"