Dropkick Murphys
Текст песни Finnegan's Wake

- Trad', arranged by the Dropkick Murphy's -

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, You see He'd sort of a Trippling way:
with love for a liquor Poor Tim was born, to help him on with
His work each day, He'd a drop of the Craythor every morn'

One morning Tim was rather full, his head felt Heavy, which made
him shake, fell from the Ladder and broke his skull, so they
carried Him home, his corpse to wake, rolled Him up in a nice
clean sheet, and laided Him upon the bed, A bottle of Whiskey
At his feet, and a gallon of Porter At his head

chorus: And whack Fol-De-Dah now dance to your Partner, welt
the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth I told Ye
Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake

His friends assembled at his wake And Missus Finnegan called
for lunch First they brought in tea and cake Then pipes, tobacco
and Whiskey Punch Biddy OBrien begged to cry, such a Nice clean
corpse did you see Arrah hold your gob see Paddy Magee

chorus:

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 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 Whirl your Whisky around
like blazes Tonamondeal, do ye think I'm dead