(Tim) Finnegan’s Wake

Traditional, c. pre-1861 | Roud 1009, Ballad Index LQ17, Laws Q17

Lyrics:

Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street
A gentle Irishman mighty odd
He’d a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet
To rise in the world he carried a hod

You see he’d a sort of a tippler’s way
But the love for the liquor poor Tim was born
To help him on his work each day
He’d a drop of the craythur every morn

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
Round the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
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 gallon of whiskey at his feet
And a barrel of porter at his head

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
Round the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake!

His friends assembled at the wake
And Mrs. 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 avourneen, why did you die?”
“Will ye hould your gob?” said Paddy McGee

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
Round the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake!

Then Maggie O’Connor took up the job
“Biddy,” says she, “you’re wrong, I’m sure”
Biddy gave her a belt in the gob
And left 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

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
Round the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake!

Then Mickey Maloney raised his head
When a bucket of whiskey flew at him
It missed, and falling on the bed
The liquor scattered over Tim

Tim revives, see how he rises
Timothy rising from the bed
Said, “Whirl your whiskey around like blazes
Thanum an Dhul, do ye think I’m dead?”

Whack fol the dah now dance to yer partner
Round the flure yer trotters shake
Wasn’t it the truth I told you?
Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake!

Additional/Alternative Verses
Fragment published in Mary O. Eddy’s Ballads and Songs from Ohio (1964) from the singing of Mrs. Robert R. Cox of Steubenville, OH-

They rolled him up in a nice, clean sheet
And laid him out in a nice, clean bed
With fifteen candles at his head
And a barrel of murphies at his feet

Whack-ti-ma-tu-ra lu-ra-lad-dy
Whack-ti-ma-tu-ra lu-ra-lay
Whack-ti-ma-tu-ra lu-ra-lad-dy
Lots of fun at Finnigan’s wake

–recording of this version

Alternate chorus published in Helen Creighton’s Songs and Ballads from Nova Scotia (1966) from the singing of Mr. Frank Faulkner, South-East Passage-

Whack hurrah. Blood-hounds ye sol ye
Whack the floor, your trotters shake
Now isn’t it the truth I’ve told ye?
Lots of fun at Finnigan’s wake

Lyrics published in 1854

Published by John J. Daly, 419 Grand St, New York, New York.

John Hopkins Sheridan Libraries & University Museums, Box 052, Item 003

Tim Finigan [sic] lived in Walker Street
He was a gintleman mighty odd
He was fond of a dhrop o’ the crature nate
And to rises in the world he carried a hod
Now Tim one mornin’ got rather full
His head felt heavy, his hands did shake
So he fell off the ladder and smashed his skull
And his friends took him home the corpse to wake

With my phillaloo, hubbaboo, whack hur-roo boys
Didn’t we all sing till our jaws did ache
And shout and laugh ’till all was blue
With the fun we had at Finigan’s wake?

They rould him up in a clane white sheet
An laid him out upon the bed
With eight dipped candles around his feet
And a dozen at laste around his head
Miss Biddy O’Brian began to cry
Mrs. Finigan cried, “asthore machree
Millia murther Tim darlin’ och! Why did you die?”
“Arrah none o’ yer prate,” sez Judy McGee

With my phillaloo, hubbaboo, whack hur-roo boys
Didn’t we all sing till our jaws did ache
And shout and laugh ’till all was blue
With the fun we had at Finigan’s wake?

Thin Peggy O’Connor took up the cry
“Now Judy,” sez she, “Yer wrong I’m sure”
But Judy soon gev her a belt on the eye
Which left her sprawlin’ on the flure
Both side in the row did soon engage
‘Twas woman to woman and man to man
Shillelagh’s and “nails” [sic] wor all the rage
An’ a “tarin'” ruction soon began

With my phillaloo, hubbaboo, whack hur-roo boys
Didn’t we all sing till our jaws did ache
And shout and laugh ’till all was blue
With the fun we had at Finigan’s wake?

Micky Mulvany jist show’d his head
When Tim Donavan flung a full quart at him
It missed him, an’ fallin’ on the bed
The liquor was spilt on the face of Tim
Now the sperrits new life gev the corpse, my joy
Tim jump’d like a Trojan from the bed
Cryin’ – whilst he wallop’d aitch girl an boy –
“Tare an’ ages, yer sowls, d’ye think I’m dead?”

With my phillaloo, hubbaboo, whack hur-roo boys
Didn’t we all sing till our jaws did ache
And shout and laugh ’till all was blue
With the fun we had at Finigan’s wake?

Rewrite - Milligan's Wake by McGrath of Harlow

Written March 1st, 2002 in memorium of Spike Mililgan of The Goon Show, a 1950s BBC comedy radio program.

Spike Milligan was a mighty man
An Irishman born on India’s sod
He had a mind both rich and rare
And he saw that the world was passing odd
When Milligan died the world stopped still
And we knew it must be some mistake
For how could a man like Milligan die
When he was a man so wide awake

Wack fol the dah, and join in the chorus
Ying Tong Ying Tong Yiddley Po
Isn’t it the truth I tell ye
Milligan’s dead, but he’ll never go

When Milligan came to the undertakers
He jumped on the slab and he called out “shop”
And they carried the coffin down to the church
Then they came to a pub and he shouted “stop”
And in for a jar and a song and a party
In for a penny in for a pound
With Milligan there so hale and hearty
And all of the Goons were buying rounds

Wack fol the dah, and join in the chorus
Ying Tong Ying Tong Yiddley Po
Isn’t it the truth I tell ye
Milligan’s dead, but he’ll never go

And up in the church they all were weeping
“Only 82, did you have to die”
While out of the back young Spike went creeping
With a hop and a skip and a roguish eye
And they looked in the coffin, it was empty
Looked for the man, and he was fled
And a note in a manner quite perempt’ry
“I’ve a funny feeling that I’m not quite dead”

Wack fol the dah, and join in the chorus
Ying Tong Ying Tong Yiddley Po
Isn’t it the truth I tell ye 
Milligan’s dead, but he’ll never go

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About the Song:

“Tim Finnegan’s Wake” is, despite it’s relatively constant popularity since its first extant publishing in 1859-60, a ballad with less than a concrete history. The earliest known publishing was by H. De Marsan in New York on a broadside titled “Tim Finigan’s Wake” set to the air “The French Musician”. It’s unknown if this air is or is related to the melody common today. No musical credits are given. While a year isn’t included on this broadside, Paul Charosh notes in his American Music article “Studying Ninteenth-Century Popular Song” that De Marsan was only active at that address during the aforementioned time span.

A possibly, although unlikely, earlier publishing is that done by John J. Daly in New York, titled “Finigan’s Wake” (without an apostrophe on the title page, but one is included on the next page). Curiously, while the sheet music itself lists 1864 as the publishing year, the cover page, as well as Johns Hopkins University, say 1854. No author is credited, but John Durnal is listed as the arranger.  Brendan Ward argues in his article “Finnegan’s Wake – Origins” that 1864 is the more likely date, as Durnal’s other published works, both in the Hathi Trust Digital Library and the Library of Congress, fall between 1863-67.

A second publication from 1864, this time by William A. Pond & Co, also in New York, says that the song was popularized by Dan Bryant, born Dan O’Niell, of the Bryant’s Minstrels, a popular black face minstrel group that primarily performed in New York City.

One person who is often credited with authorship is John F. Poole, a Dublin native born in either 1833 or ‘35 that immigrated to the US at 12 years old. It wouldn’t be until 1863 that he would break out into the scene as a prolific song and comedic skit writer. His most popular work (confidently credited to him) is the protest song “No Irish Need Apply”. It wouldn’t be until 1867 that this song, this time titled “Tim Finigan’s Wake”, would be published attributing Poole as the author. He allegedly wrote the lyrics for Tony Pastor, an extremely successful impresario and performer, oft called “The Father of Vaudeville.” Poole, coincidentally enough, also died after falling from a ladder. It seems unlikely that Poole actually wrote the song. It was missing in the 1864 edition of Tony Pastor’s Complete Budget of Comic Songs, which was edited by Poole. It was, however, included in the 1867 edition of Tony Pastor’s Book of 600 Comic Songs.

It is also possible that “Finnegan’s Wake” is a re-write of an older song. Dublin-born actor and writer John Brougham’s “A Fine Ould Irish Gintleman” includes a verse about a man being revived through the power of whiskey. This song was, in turn, a parody of the older “The Fine Old English Gentleman”, a very successful song from 1835 written by Henry Russell. Several parodies of this song existed, typically replacing “English” with various groups and demographics. Parodying this song was popular enough that even Charles Dickens gave it a stab with his “The Fine Old English Gentleman, New Version“. All of these songs have their roots in the 17th century ballad, “The Queen’s Old Courtier“.

The ballad retained cultural relevance through the 20th century thanks to recordings by Irish music legends The Dubliners and The Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem. More recently, the song found success in the repertoire of the Boston-based Irish punk band Dropkick Murphys. Elsewhere in popular culture, it provided the inspiration for Irish novelist and poet James Joyce’s final work, Finnegans Wake (intentionally without the apostrophe, implying a plurality of Finnegan and his experience, present in everybody’s life). Released in 1939, it maintains a reputation for being one of the most difficult pieces of fiction in the Western canon. Joyce uses Finnegan and whiskey, also called “the water of life,” as a metaphor for the universal cycle of life, with whiskey being both the cause of death and resurrection.

Breakdown of Hiberno-English and Irish phrases-

  • brogue (an Irish or Scots accent)
  • hod (a tool for carrying bricks, also slang for a tankard)
  • tippler (drunkard)
  • craythur (Poitín, anglicized as poteen and also referred to as mountian dew, is a traditional Irish distilled spirit made with cereals, grain, whey, sugar beet, molasses and potatoes)
  • Whack fol the dah (a lilted phrase, with lilting being a traditional Irish form of mouth music similar to scat singing)
  • trotters (feet)
  • full (drunk)
  • mavourneen (my darling)
  • hould your gob (shut up)
  • belt in the gob (punch in the mouth)
  • shillelagh law (a brawl)
  • ruction (a fight)
  • bedad (a shocked expression)
  • Thanam ‘on dhoul (anglicized spelling of the Irish “D’anam ‘on diabhal,” or, “your soul to the devil”)