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Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin
A gentle Irishman, odd
He had a brogue rich and sweet
An' to in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a of a tipplers way
But the love for the poor Tim was born
And to help him on his way day
He'd a of the craythur every morn

()
Whack fol the dah, now dance with your
Around the floor, your shake
it the truth, I tell you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan's

One morning Tim felt full
His head heavy, which made him shake
He fell off his and he broke his skull
So they him home, his corpse to wake
wrapped him up in a nice, clean sheet
And they him out there upon the bed
With a bottle of whiskey at his
And a barrel of porter at his

()

His assembled at the wake
And Mrs called for lunch
First she them tay and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and punch

Biddy O'Brien to cry:
"Such a clean corpse, did you ever see
Tim avourneen, why did you die?"
"Will ye hould your gob?" said Paddy

()

Ginny O'Harriton got the job:
"Biddy" she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a clapper the gob
And sent her on the floor
T'was the war did soon engage
It was to woman and man to man
law, did all engage
And a row and a ruction began

()

Then Mickey Maloney ducked his
When a bucket of flew at him
It missed, and on the bed
And the whisky splattered poor old Tim
he revives, now see him rise
Tim Finnegan and up in the bed
Throwin' the around the place
"T'underin' Jaysus, do ye I'm dead?"