Arquivo da tag: poor tim

Ballad of Finnegans Wake

Padrão

Traditional

NO YOUTUBE

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, a gentle Irishman mighty odd

He had a brogue both rich and sweet, an’ to rise in the world he carried a hod

You see he’d a sort of a tipplers way but the love for the liquor poor Tim was born

To help him on his way each day, he’d a drop of the craythur every morn

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake

Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s 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

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer 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 avourneen, why did you die?”, “Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer 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, “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

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake

Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

Mickey Maloney raised his head when a bucket of whiskey flew at him

It missed, and falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim

Bedad he revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed

Saying “Whittle your whiskey around like blazes, t’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?”

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner around the flure yer trotters shake

Wasn’t it the truth I told you? Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

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