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

See, he'd sort of a tipplin' way
With love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him a man with his work each day
He'd a drop of the craythin' every morn'

Whack fol, de, dah
Now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun
At Finnegan's wake

One morning Tim got rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull
They carried him home, his corpse to wake

Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet
And laid him out upon the bed
A gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a bottle of porter at his head

Whack fol, de, dah
Now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun
At Finnegan's wake

His friends assembled at the wake
And misses Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tea and cake
Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch

Biddy O'Brien began to cry
Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see?
Tim me, boy, yadda, hoy, dida, ho, yada
“Arrah, hold your gob”, said Patty Megee

Whack fol, de, dah
Now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun
At Finnegan's wake

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

Whack fol, de, dah
Now, dance to your partner
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
Wasn't it the truth, they told ye lots of fun
At Finnegan's wake

Then 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
Then Whirl your whiskey around
Like blazes Thanum o'n Dhoul
Do ye think I'm dead?