Tim Finnegan lived in Watling Street
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A gentle Irishman mighty odd
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He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet
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To rise in the world he carried a hod
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You see he'd sort of a tippling way
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with love for a liquor poor Tim was born
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To help him on with his work every day
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He'd a drop of the Craythor every morn'
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One morning Tim was rather full
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His head felt heavy which made him shake
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Fell from the ladder and broke his skull
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So they carried him home his corpse to wake
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Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
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And laid him upon the bed
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A bottle of whiskey at his feet
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And a gallon of porter at his head
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And whack Fol-De-Dah now dance to your partner
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Welt the floor, your trotters shake
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Wasn't it the truth I told ya
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Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake
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His friends assembled at his wake
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And Missus Finnegan called for lunch
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First they brought in tay and cake
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Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey and punch
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Biddy O'Brien began to cry
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Such a nice clean corpse did you ever did see
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Tim mavourneen, why did you die?
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Hold your gob said Paddy McGee.
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And whack Fol-De-Dah now dance to your partner
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Welt the floor, your trotters shake
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Wasn't it the truth I told ya
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Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.
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Then Peggy O'Connor took up the job
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Biddy she says You're wrong I'm sure
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Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob
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And left her sprawling on the floor
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Then the war did soon engage
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Woman to Woman and Man to Man
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Shillelah law was all the rage
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And a row and a ruction soon began
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Mickey Maloney he raised his head
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When a bottle of whiskey flew at him
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It missed him falling on the bed
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The liquor scattered over Tim
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Tim revives see how he rises
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Timothy rising from the bed
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Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
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Thanum an Dhul, do ye think I'm dead.
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And whack Fol-De-Dah now dance to your partner
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Welt the floor, your trotters shake
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Wasn't it the truth I told ya
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Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.
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[x2]
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Finnegan's Wake (Traditional)
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Dropkick Murphys |