Finnigan's Wake Songtext
von The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
He′d a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet
And to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a tipplin′ way
With the love for the liquor, poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each day
He'd a drop of the craythur every morn

Whack fol the da, now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan′s wake


One mornin′ Tim was rather full
His head felt heavy, which made him shake
He fell from the ladder and he broke his skull
So they carried him home his corpse to wake
They rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
They laid him out upon the bed
With a gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head

Whack fol the da, now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan′s wake

His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch
First they brought in tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry
′Such a nice clean corpse did you ever see?
Arrah, Tim a mhúirnín, why did you die?'
′Arrah hold your gob!' said Paddy McGee

Whack fol the da, now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan′s wake


Then Maggie O′Connor took up the job
'O Biddy′ says she 'you′re wrong I'm sure′
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
And she left her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage
T'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage
And a row and a ruction soon began

Whack fol the da, now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan′s wake

Then Mickey Maloney raised his head
When a naggin of whiskey flew at him
It missed and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim
Tim revives, see how he rises
Timothy rising from the bed
Says ′Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
D'anam ′on diabhail, do you think I'm dead?′

Whack fol the da, now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth I told ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan′s wake