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"Finnegan's Wake" is a song, called a street-ballad, that arose perhaps in the 1850s. It is one of several mock-Irish stage songs that were very popular in 19th-century American vaudeville. It is famous for being parodied in James Joyce's masterwork, Finnegans Wake, where the comic resurrection becomes symbolic of a universal cycle of life. The interesting irony with there being whiskey --"whiskey" comes from the Gaelic, uisge beatha (pronounced ish-guh-ba-ha), meaning "water of life"-- at a wake, and more-over being what revives him. Joyce removed the apostrophe in the title to assert an active process in which a multiplicity of "Finnegans," that is, all of us, wake, that is, arise after falling. Finnegan's Wake lyrics: Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin Street A gentleman Irish, mighty odd; He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet And to rise in the world he carried a hod. Now Tim had a sort o' the tipplin' way With a love of the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on with his work each day He'd a drop of the craythur ev'ry morn. Chorus Whack fol the dah now dance to your partner Welt the flure, your trotters shake; Wasn't it the truth I told you Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake! One mornin' Tim was rather full His head felt heavy which made him shake, He fell from the ladder and broke his skull And they carried him home his corpse to wake. They wrapped him up in a nice clean sheet And laid him out across the bed, With a gallon of whiskey at his feet And a barrel of porter at his head. His friends assembled at the wake And Mrs. Finnegan called for lunch, First they brought in tea and cake Then pipes, tobacco and whiskey punch. Biddy O'Brien began to cry "Such a nice clean corpse, did you ever see? "Arrah, Tim, mavourneen, why did you die?" "Ah, shut your gob" said Paddy McGee! Then Biddy O'Connor took up the job "O Biddy," says she, "You're wrong, I'm sure": Biddy gave her a belt in the gob And left her sprawlin' on the floor. And then a mighty war did rage 'Twas woman to woman and man to man, Shillelagh law did all engage And the row and the ruction soon began. Then Mickey Maloney ducked his head When a naggin of whiskey flew at him, It missed, and fallin' on the bed The liquor scattered over Tim. Bedad he revives! See how he rises! Timothy rising from the bed: "Whirl your whiskey around like blazes! Thanam o'n Dhoul! D'ye think I'm dead?" (An alternate choice for Thanam o'n Dhoul (your souls to the devil) is Thunderin' Jaysus.)
