[Verse]
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street,
A gentle Irishman, mighty odd,
He had a beautiful brogue both rich and sweet,
And to rise in the world he carried a hod.

But Tim had a touch of the tipplers way,
With the love of the liquor, he was born,
And to send him on with his way each day,
He'd a drop of the craythur every morn.

[Chorus]
Whack fol the da, dance to your partner,
Welt the floor with your trotters shake,
Isn't it the truth I tell you,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.

[Verse]
One morning Tim was rather full,
His head felt heavy, which made him shake,
He fell from the ladder and he broke his skull,
So they carried him home his corpse to wake.

They wrapped him up in a nice clean sheet,
Laid him out upon the bed,
With a barrel of porter at his feet,
And a bucket of whiskey at his head.

[Chorus]
Whack fol the da, dance to your partner,
Welt the floor with your trotters shake,
Isn't it the truth I tell you,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.

[Verse]
His friends assembled at the wake,
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
First they brought in tae and cake,
Then pipes, tobacca and whiskey punch.

But Biddy O'Brien began to cry,
"Such a neat clean corpse did you ever see?
Oh, Tim Mavourneen why did you die?"
"Arrah hold your gob", said Paddy McGee.

[Chorus]
Whack fol the da, dance to your partner,
Welt the floor with your trotters shake,
Isn't it the truth I tell you,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.

[Verse]
Then Biddy O'Connor took up the job,
"Ah, Biddy," says she "You're wrong I'm sure",
But Biddy fetched her a belt in the gob,
And left her sprawling on the floor.

Then the war did soon engage,
Woman to woman and man to man,
Shillelagh law was all the rage,
A row and a ruction soon began.

[Chorus]
Whack fol the da, dance to your partner,
Welt the floor with your trotters shake,
Isn't it the truth I tell you,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.

[Verse]
Mickey Maloney raised his head,
When a noggen of whiskey flew at him,
It missed and falling on the bed,
The liquor scatters over Tim.

Bedad he revives and see how he rises,
Finnegan rising in the bed,
Saying, "Whirl your whiskey around like blazes,
Thundering Jesus, do yes think I'm dead?"

[Chorus]
Whack fol the da, dance to your partner,
Welt the floor with your trotters shake,
Isn't it the truth I tell you,
There was lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.