Tim Finnegan lived in watling street   A gentle Irishman, mighty odd   He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet   To rise in the world, he carried a hod      See, he'd sort of a tipplin' way   With love for the liquor poor Tim was born   To help him a man with his work each day   He'd a drop of the craythin' every morn'      Whack fol, de, dah   Now, dance to your partner   Welt the floor, your trotters shake   Wasn't it the truth, they told ye 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   They carried him home, his corpse to wake      Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet   And laid him out upon the bed   A gallon of whiskey at his feet   And a bottle of porter at his head      Whack fol, de, dah   Now, dance to your partner   Welt the floor, your trotters shake   Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun   At Finnegan's wake      His friends assembled at the wake   And misses Finnegan 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 me, boy, yadda, hoy, dida, ho, yada   ?Arrah, hold your gob?, said Patty Megee      Whack fol, de, dah   Now, dance to your partner   Welt the floor, your trotters shake   Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun   At Finnegan's wake      Then O'Connor took up the job   "Arrah", biddy says, she ye're wrong, I'm sure   Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob   And left her sprawling on the floor      There the war did soon engage   Woman to woman and man to man   Shillelah law was all the rage   An a row and a ruction soon began      Whack fol, de, dah   Now, dance to your partner   Welt the floor, your trotters shake   Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun   At Finnegan's wake      Then Mickey Maloney raised his head   When a bottle of whiskey flew at him   It missed him falling on the bed   The liquor scattered over Tim      Tim revives, see how he rises   Timothy rising from the bed   Then Whirl your whiskey around   Like blazes Thanum o'n Dhoul   Do ye think I'm dead?