This musical play on words stems from the Irish custom of 'waking the dead' - family and friends of the deceased gather in the family home to toast the memory of the departed, whose body invariably lies in the bedroom or front room. Food and drink are provided, with hours of talk and reminiscence about the departed's life and times.
Finnegan's Wake
One morning Tim felt 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 gallon of whiskey at his feet,
And a barrel of porter at his head.
Chorus
His friends assembled at the wake,
And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch,
First they brought in tae and cake,
Then pipes, tobacco, and whiskey punch.
Miss Biddy O'Brien began to cry,
'Such a neat, clean corpse did you ever see,
Arrah, Tim avoureen, why did you die?'
'Ah, hould your bag,' said Paddy M'Gee.
Chorus
Then Biddy O'Connor took up the job,
'Biddy', says she, 'you're wrong I'm sure,'
But Biddy gave her a belt on the gob,
And left her sprawling on the floor.
Oh, then war did soon enrage,
'Twas woman to woman and man to man.
Shillelagh law did all engage,
And a row and a ruction soon began.
Chorus
Then Mickey Maloney raised his head,
When a noggin of whiskey flew at him,
It missed and falling on the bed,
The liquor scattered over Tim;
Bedad, he revives, see how he rises,
And Timothy rising from the bed,
Says, 'Whirl your liquor round like blazes,
Thunderin' Jasus, do you think I'm dead?'
Chorus
