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Finnegan's Wake
Traditional Irish. Recorded by Darby O'Gill on "Waitin' for a Ride" and
"Driven to Drink", et al.
Notes: Finnegan's Wake has become an audience participation song
with Darby audiences.
Finnegan’s Wake

    C                       Am                   F                        G
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street; a gentleman - Irish, mighty odd
       C                           Am                           F                          G          C
He’d a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet; and to rise in the world he carried a hod
                                  Am                          C                                Am
Now Tim had a sort of a tipplin’ way; with the love of the liqueur poor Tim was born
        C                            Am                         F                           G      C
And to help him on with his way each day he’d a drop of the craythur every morn

C                              Am                         F                          G
Wack fol the dol now dance to yer partner, welt the floor, your trotters shake
C                Am                       F                 G             C
Wasn’t it the truth that I told ye: lots o’ fun at Finnegan’s wake

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

His friends assembled at the wake, and the widow Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cakes, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O’Brien began to cry: Such a nice clean corpse did you ever see
Tim, Mavourneen, why did ye die? Shut yer gob said Paddy McGhee

Then Maggie O’Connor took up the job: O Biddy, says she, you’re wrong Iâ
€™m sure
Then Biddy fetched her a belt in the gob and left her sprawlin’ on the floor
Civil war did then engage; ‘twas woman to woman and man to man
Shelelaigh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began

Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head as a bottle of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and landing on the bed, the whiskey scattered over Tim
Tim revived, bedad he arises; Timothy risin’ from the bed
Sayin’: Whirl yer whiskey around like blazes; thunder and Jesus, do ye think I’m
Driven to Drink
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