please...

[Eulenspiegel7646 at aol.com]

In a message dated 10/18/2004 6:13:14 PM Pacific Standard Time, 
saschanico at web.de writes:
but haven't bothered with much of
> Finnegan's Wake. 
No one under the age of 40 can possibly understand Finnegan's Wake (the 
novel, not the song, which is almost as accessible as The Crying of Lot 49).
Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, 
A gentle Irishman mighty odd
He had a brogue both rich and sweet, 
An' to rise in the world he carried a hod
You see he'd a sort of a tipplers way 
but for the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his way each day, 
he'd a drop of the craythur every morn
Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner 
Round the floor your trotters shake
Bend an ear to the truth they tell ye,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
One morning Tim got rather full, 
his head felt heavy which made him shake
Fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, and
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
His friends assembled at the wake, 
and Widow Finnegan called for lunch
First she brought in tay and cake, 
then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch
Biddy O'Brien began to cry, 
"Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see,
Tim, auvreem! O, why did you die?", 
"Will ye hould your gob?" said Paddy McGee
Then Maggie O'Connor took up the cry, 
"O Biddy" says she "you're wrong, I'm sure"
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob 
and sent her sprawling on the floor
Then the war did soon engage,
t'was woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh law was all the rage 
and a row and a ruction soon began
Tim Finnegan he ducked his head 
As a gallon o' whiskey was threw at him 
It missed him and it fell on the bed 
And the whiskey spattered over Tim 
Oh, how it revives him and see how he rises 
Timothy jumped up from the bed 
And while he lathered round like blazes, 
"Bad luck to your souls do you think I'm dead"
    Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner 
    Round the floor your trotters shake
    Bend an ear to the truth they tell ye,
    Lots of fun at Finnegan's Wake
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