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The Tramps
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Tim Finnegan's Wake
Tim Finnegan lived in Watling street A gentleman irishman mighty odd He had a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet And to rise in the world he carried a hod You see he had a sort of a tippling way With a love for the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on his work every day He had a drop of the craythur every morn'
Whack fol-de-dah now dance to your partner Welt the floor, your trotters shake Wasn't it the truth I told ye? Lot's of fun at Finnegan's wake
One morning Tim was rather full His head felt heavy, which made him shake He fell from the ladder and broke his skull So 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 Whisky at his feet And a gallon of porter at his head
His friends assembled at his wake And missus Finnegan called for lunch First they brought in tea and cake もっと沢山の歌詞は ※ Mojim.com The pipes, tobacco and whisky-punch Then Biddy O'Brian began to cry Such a nice clean corpse did you ever see? Arrah! Tim avourneen, why did you die? Arrah! Hould your gob sez Billy MaGee
Then Peggy O'Connor took up the job Arrah! Biddy, says she, Ye're wrong I'm sure But Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob And left her sprawling on the floor Each side in war did soon engage It was woman to woman and man to man Shillelah-law was all the rage And a row and a ruction soon began
Then Mickey Maloney raised his head When a bottle of whisky 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 Crying whirl your whisky around like blazes Glory be to God, do ye think I'm dead
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