Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin' Street
A gentleman, Irishman, mighty odd;
He had a beautiful brogue both rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod
Now Tim had a sort of the tippler's way
With a love of 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 me darlin', dance to your partner
Round 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 and it made him shake;
He fell off the ladder and broke his skull
So 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 case of the blue star at his head

Whack fol me darlin', dance to your partner
Round the floor, your 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,
They brought in tea and whisky cake
Then pipes, tobacco and brandy punch
Then 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 says Paddy McGhee!

Whack fol me darlin', dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

Then Maggie O'Connor took up the jo
"Now Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure"
And Biddy she gave her a belt in the go
And left her sprawlin' on the floor
Civil war did then engage
'Twas woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began

Whack fol me darlin', dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head
When a bottle of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim!
Tim revives! See how he rises!
Tim finnegan rising in the bed,
Saying , "Whirling your whiskey around like blazes
Well Holy Jesus! Do you think I'm dead?"

Whack fol me darlin', dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

Whack fol me darlin', dance to your partner
Round the floor, your trotters shake;
Wasn't it the truth I told you
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake!

Comment: This irish ballad is sang all over Europe in many,
many different ways so don't worry if some words don't fit
exactly with the version you are listening to