Finnegan’s Wake The Pubcrawlers

Tim Finnegan lived on Watling Street
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd
Had a love for both the rich and the sweet
And to rise in the world, he carried a hod

You see, he'd sort of a tippling way
With the love for the liquor, poor Tim was born
To help him on with his work each day
Had a drop of the craythur every morn'

Whack fol the da now dance to your partner
'Round the floor your trotters shake
Bend an ear to the truth I tell ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake

One mornin' Tim got rather full
His head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from the ladder and 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 bottle of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head

Whack fol the da now dance to your partner
'Round the floor your trotters shake
Bend an ear to the truth I tell ya
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake