Intro Verse: (clean)
    B                                   G#
Tim Finnegan lived in Watling Street, a gentle Irishman - Mighty odd
       e
He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet,
   B                     f#
To rise in the world, he carried a hod,
    B
You see he'd sort of a Trippling way:
     G#
With love for a liquor poor Tim was born,
   e
To help him on with his work each day,
       B                    f#            B
He'd a drop of the Craythor every morn'...

Intro Riff:
e--------------------------------------------------|
B--------------------------------------------------|
G--------------------------9--9-9-------11--11-11--| x4
D--9--9-9-9-9--6--6-6-6-6--9--9-9--9-9--11--11-11--|
A--9--9-9-9-9--6--6-6-6-6--7--7-7--9-9---9---9--9--|
E--7--7-7-7-7--4--4-4-4-4----------7-7-------------|
 (the first two times, guitar 2 justs hits chords)

Verse 1: (ring out chords)
    B                                G#
One morning Tim was rather full, his head felt heavy, which made him shake,
e
Fell from the ladder and broke his skull,
        B                     f#
So they carried Him home, his corpse to wake
B                                        G#
Rolled him up in a nice clean sheet, and laid him out upon the bed,
  e                                    B                f#
A bottle of whiskey at his feet, and a gallon of Porter at his head

Chorus:
    B                    G#
And whack Fol-De-Dah now dance to your partner,
e               B   f#
Welt the floor, your trotters shake
B             G#
Wasn't it the truth I told
   e           B  f#
Ye lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake

Verse 2: (ring out)
    B                                  G#
His friends assembled at his wake, and Missus Finnegan called for lunch
e                                        B                  f#
First they brought in tea and cake, then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
B                                   G#
Biddy O'Brien begged to cry, such a nice clean corpse that you ever did see
e                                       B                 f#
Tim brother, hey why did you die? Arrah hold your gob see Patty Magee

Chorus x1

Break:
B   e  f#   B
 Whoah,oh,oooh x2

Verse 3:
     B                               G#
Then Peggy O'Connor took up the job, Biddy she says ye're wrong I'm sure
e                                         B                  f#
Biddy then gave her a belt on the gob and left her sprawling on the floor
B                             G#
Then the war did soon engage, Woman to Woman and Man to Man
    e                                 B                 e
Shillelah-law was all the rage, an' a row and a ruction soon began
B                                      G#
Mickey Maloney raised his head, when a bottle Of whiskey flew at him,
   e                                  f#
It missed him falling on the bed, the liquor scattered over Tim,
B                              G#
Tim revives, see how he rises, Timothy rising from the bed
e                                      f#
Whirl your whisky around like blazes, "Tonamondeal, do ye think I'm dead?"

Chorus x2