Finnegan’s Wake

“Finnegan’s Wake” is a traditional Irish folk tune that gained widespread recognition, largely thanks to its association with the humorous and lively ballad of the same name. The ballad, which was first published in 1864, tells the story of Tim Finnegan, a man who, after being presumed dead and laid out in a coffin at his wake, comes back to life when whiskey is spilled on him, causing the guests at the wake to erupt in joy and chaos. This story, full of humor and surreal twists, has made “Finnegan’s Wake” a beloved part of Irish cultural folklore.

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The tune itself is a lively jig, known for its upbeat rhythm and playful spirit, capturing the mischievous nature of the tale it accompanies. While the song’s origins are tied to the 19th century, the tune itself predates the widespread popularity of the ballad, as it was part of the Irish folk music repertoire long before the lyrics were formally written down. Many believe that the melody for “Finnegan’s Wake” has roots in older Irish jigs, though the exact origins of the tune are unclear.

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Over time, “Finnegan’s Wake” has become synonymous with Irish music sessions and celebrations. The ballad and tune were made famous by Irish musicians and folk bands, and the song is often performed in a medley with other traditional Irish tunes. The tune’s lively, infectious rhythm has cemented its place as a favorite for dancers, and it is frequently played at céilí dances and social gatherings.

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Today, “Finnegan’s Wake” is celebrated worldwide, with its spirited melody and humorous lyrics continuing to evoke laughter and joy. The combination of the catchy tune and the amusing, improbable story of Tim Finnegan makes it a timeless piece of Irish musical and cultural heritage.

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Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street, A gentle Irishman mighty odd He had a brogue both thick and sweet, And to rise in the world he carried a hod Now you see he had a sort of a tipplers way but for the love for the liquor old Tim was born And to help him on his way each day, he’d a drop of the craythur every morn

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Whack fol the dah then dance to yer partner round the flure yer trotters shake Bend an ear to the truth they tell ye, Lots of fun at Finnegan’s Wake

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One morning Tim felt rather foul, His head felt heavy which made him shake He fell from a ladder and he broke his skull, They carried him home his corpse to wake They 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

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Tim’s friends assembled at the wake, and Widow Finnegan called for lunch First she brought in tay and cake, Then pipes, tobacco and brandi punch Then Biddy O’Brien began to cry, “Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see, Tim, auvreem! O, why did you die?”, “Will ye hold your gob?” said Paddy McGee

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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 civil war did soon engage, It was woman to woman and man to man Shillelagh law was all the rage and a row and a ruction soon began

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Then Paddy Maloney ducked his head When a bucket of whiskey flew at him It missed, and landed on the bed, The liquor scattered over Tim Now the spirits new life gave the corpse, my joy! Tim jumped like a Trojan from the bed Cryin, “Will ye walup each girl and boy, t’underin’ Jaysus, do ye think I’m dead?”