In a field of corn   Is a master's shoe   Click the master's shoe   There's a blue-tailed fly   Click a blind man's foot   See a horse's tail   It's down to Finnegan   The folk hero of HTML      This is the tale   Of a clever sod   HTML   Was his gift from God   He slaved all night   Coding the master's site   Never paid a cent   What was his by rights      How the website burns   Since Finnegan fell!   Let's pray that he returns   From web designer hell   He's the only one can fix it   Fix it good and well   Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML      He could stream Quicktime   He could code in Flash   He could make your icons dance with Java   Then empty out your trash   But Finnegan's dead   Rotted clean away   Because the bastard master   Never gave him any pay      How the bastard yells   Cos the website's down   When he taps his URLs   All he gets is '404 Not Found'   By the coffee machine   Screaming Finnegan's name   But the folk hero is dead   And there is no-one left to blame      We've lost our shirts   Now Finnegan's gone   If he had got his just deserts   We could've been cracking merrily on   Cos there was just one man could fix it   Fix it good and well   That's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML      When the web is quiet   On a moonlit night   There is phantom code   On the master's site   Some say it's spiders   Or a bot from hell   Like hell! It's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML