Chords for Finnegan's Wake - The Clancy Brothers
Tempo:
116.95 bpm
Chords used:
B
E
Abm
Gb
Bb
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
Well, that's probably whiskey.
Or it might be champagne, you never know.
Do you know that the word whiskey comes from the old Gaelic iscabaha,
which means the water of life.
Ah!
Well, there [F] was a builder's [B] laborer in Dublin who was very fond of that same iscabaha.
And one morning after the night before, he was up on a lather,
and he got dizzy, and he fell and broke his skull.
[Eb] And they carried him home and they had a wake for him.
And at this wake, there was music, dancing, [Bb] drinking, fighting,
[E] everything you should have at a good wake.
What about the [D] lovemaker?
Well, there was a song, a Dublin street [F] ballad about this wake.
And there was also a novel by James Joyce, that famous Irish author James Joyce,
who wrote a very complicated, involved novel based on that street ballad.
And he gave it the same title, Finnegan's Wake.
[Gb] Now, we're going to sing the ballad, but first, by way of introduction [B] and explanation.
Tom is going to read for us the entire novel by James [Bm] Joyce, Finnegan's [B] Wake.
Goodbye, Tom.
Goodbye.
Big Mr.
Finnegan, of the [N] stuttered hand,
free man's morrow lived in the broadest way imaginable,
in his rush lit, too far back for messuagins,
before Joshua and judges had given us numbers,
or Helveticus had committed deuteronomy.
Go, man.
Now, during mighty odd years,
this man of hard cement and edifices,
in toper's thought,
piled bildung, supra bildung,
from the banks of the livers for the so-and-so.
A Woolworth of a skyscraper,
entirely originating from next to nothing,
with a burning bush above of its bobbletop,
and with laden-soaked tools as clittered not the Thomas O'Bucket,
sluttered him down.
Now, the first was he to bear arms,
and a name,
Wassily Boozily of Resengebumb.
Ho, ho, ho, Mr.
Finn,
you're going to be fined again.
Ha, ha, ha, Mr.
Fun,
you're going to be Mr.
Finn again.
Oh, oh, but dim,
[Bb] he stuttered from the lather.
[Ab] Damn, he [B] was dull.
Tim Finnegan lived in [Abm] Walkin' Street,
[B] a gentle [Gb] Irishman, mighty odd.
He had a [Abm] brogue, both rich and [B] sweet,
and to rise in the [Gb] world he carried a [B] hod.
You see, the [Abm] sort of a [E] titler's way,
with a love for [Gb] the liquor, Tim was born.
[B] To help the man with his [Db] work each day,
he'd drop at the cradle [B] every morning.
And whack for the daddo,
[E] that's dear partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, the [E] truth I told you,
lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
One morning, [Abm] Tim felt rather [B] full,
his head felt [Gbm] heavy, which made him [B] shake.
He fell off [E] the lather and he broke his skull,
they carried [Gb] him home, his corpse [B] to wake.
They rolled him up in [Abm] a nice clean [E] sheet,
laid him out upon the bed,
[B] with a gallon of whiskey at his [E] feet,
and a bottle of port, there [B] at his head.
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and [B] shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
His friends [Abm] assembled at the [E] wake,
and Mrs.
[Gb] Finnegan called for lunch.
First they [Abm] brought him tea and [E] cake,
then pipes, tobacco [B] and whiskey punch.
Biddy O [Ab]'Brien began to cry,
[E] such a nice clean corpse did [B] you ever see?
And Tim O [Abm]'Bourneen, why did you die?
[E] And I shut your [B] mouth, says Biddy McGee.
And whack for the [Abm] daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
Then Maggie O'Connor took up [E] the job,
oh Biddy says she [Gb] a wrong I'm [Gb] sure.
Biddy gave [Abm] her a belt in the gob
[E] and she left her sprawling on [B] the floor.
Then the war did [Ab] soon engage us,
woman to woman and man to man.
Jalali law was all the rage
and her own eruption [B] soon began.
And whack for the daddo,
that's dear partner,
wet the flour [Gb] your tongue and shake.
One day, [Abm] the truth I told you,
[E] lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
Then Mickey O'Connor ducked [E] his head
when a bucket [Gb] of whiskey flew at him.
[B] It missed [Abm] and fallen [E] on the bed,
the liquor scatters over [B] Tim.
[E] He got he [Abm] revised,
[Eb] see how he rises.
[E] Timothy rising [Bb] from the bed,
saying whirl your whiskey [Abm] around like blazes.
[E] Converting lightning, do you think I'm [B] dead?
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, [E] the truth I told you,
lots of [Gbm] fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
[N]
Or it might be champagne, you never know.
Do you know that the word whiskey comes from the old Gaelic iscabaha,
which means the water of life.
Ah!
Well, there [F] was a builder's [B] laborer in Dublin who was very fond of that same iscabaha.
And one morning after the night before, he was up on a lather,
and he got dizzy, and he fell and broke his skull.
[Eb] And they carried him home and they had a wake for him.
And at this wake, there was music, dancing, [Bb] drinking, fighting,
[E] everything you should have at a good wake.
What about the [D] lovemaker?
Well, there was a song, a Dublin street [F] ballad about this wake.
And there was also a novel by James Joyce, that famous Irish author James Joyce,
who wrote a very complicated, involved novel based on that street ballad.
And he gave it the same title, Finnegan's Wake.
[Gb] Now, we're going to sing the ballad, but first, by way of introduction [B] and explanation.
Tom is going to read for us the entire novel by James [Bm] Joyce, Finnegan's [B] Wake.
Goodbye, Tom.
Goodbye.
Big Mr.
Finnegan, of the [N] stuttered hand,
free man's morrow lived in the broadest way imaginable,
in his rush lit, too far back for messuagins,
before Joshua and judges had given us numbers,
or Helveticus had committed deuteronomy.
Go, man.
Now, during mighty odd years,
this man of hard cement and edifices,
in toper's thought,
piled bildung, supra bildung,
from the banks of the livers for the so-and-so.
A Woolworth of a skyscraper,
entirely originating from next to nothing,
with a burning bush above of its bobbletop,
and with laden-soaked tools as clittered not the Thomas O'Bucket,
sluttered him down.
Now, the first was he to bear arms,
and a name,
Wassily Boozily of Resengebumb.
Ho, ho, ho, Mr.
Finn,
you're going to be fined again.
Ha, ha, ha, Mr.
Fun,
you're going to be Mr.
Finn again.
Oh, oh, but dim,
[Bb] he stuttered from the lather.
[Ab] Damn, he [B] was dull.
Tim Finnegan lived in [Abm] Walkin' Street,
[B] a gentle [Gb] Irishman, mighty odd.
He had a [Abm] brogue, both rich and [B] sweet,
and to rise in the [Gb] world he carried a [B] hod.
You see, the [Abm] sort of a [E] titler's way,
with a love for [Gb] the liquor, Tim was born.
[B] To help the man with his [Db] work each day,
he'd drop at the cradle [B] every morning.
And whack for the daddo,
[E] that's dear partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, the [E] truth I told you,
lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
One morning, [Abm] Tim felt rather [B] full,
his head felt [Gbm] heavy, which made him [B] shake.
He fell off [E] the lather and he broke his skull,
they carried [Gb] him home, his corpse [B] to wake.
They rolled him up in [Abm] a nice clean [E] sheet,
laid him out upon the bed,
[B] with a gallon of whiskey at his [E] feet,
and a bottle of port, there [B] at his head.
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and [B] shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
His friends [Abm] assembled at the [E] wake,
and Mrs.
[Gb] Finnegan called for lunch.
First they [Abm] brought him tea and [E] cake,
then pipes, tobacco [B] and whiskey punch.
Biddy O [Ab]'Brien began to cry,
[E] such a nice clean corpse did [B] you ever see?
And Tim O [Abm]'Bourneen, why did you die?
[E] And I shut your [B] mouth, says Biddy McGee.
And whack for the [Abm] daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
Then Maggie O'Connor took up [E] the job,
oh Biddy says she [Gb] a wrong I'm [Gb] sure.
Biddy gave [Abm] her a belt in the gob
[E] and she left her sprawling on [B] the floor.
Then the war did [Ab] soon engage us,
woman to woman and man to man.
Jalali law was all the rage
and her own eruption [B] soon began.
And whack for the daddo,
that's dear partner,
wet the flour [Gb] your tongue and shake.
One day, [Abm] the truth I told you,
[E] lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
Then Mickey O'Connor ducked [E] his head
when a bucket [Gb] of whiskey flew at him.
[B] It missed [Abm] and fallen [E] on the bed,
the liquor scatters over [B] Tim.
[E] He got he [Abm] revised,
[Eb] see how he rises.
[E] Timothy rising [Bb] from the bed,
saying whirl your whiskey [Abm] around like blazes.
[E] Converting lightning, do you think I'm [B] dead?
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, [E] the truth I told you,
lots of [Gbm] fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
[N]
Key:
B
E
Abm
Gb
Bb
B
E
Abm
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ Well, that's probably whiskey.
Or it might be champagne, you never know.
Do you know that the word whiskey comes from the old Gaelic iscabaha,
which means the water of life.
Ah!
_ Well, there [F] was a builder's [B] laborer in Dublin who was very fond of that same iscabaha.
And one morning after the night before, he was up on a lather,
and he got dizzy, and he fell and broke his skull.
_ [Eb] And they carried him home and they had a wake for him.
_ And at this wake, there was music, dancing, [Bb] drinking, fighting,
[E] everything you should have at a good wake.
_ _ What about the [D] lovemaker? _ _
Well, there was a song, a Dublin street [F] ballad about this wake.
And there was also a novel by James Joyce, that famous Irish author James Joyce,
who wrote a very complicated, involved novel based on that street ballad.
And he gave it the same title, Finnegan's Wake.
[Gb] Now, we're going to sing the ballad, but first, by way of introduction [B] and explanation.
Tom is going to read for us the entire novel by James [Bm] Joyce, Finnegan's [B] Wake.
Goodbye, Tom.
Goodbye.
_ _ _ Big Mr.
Finnegan, _ of the [N] stuttered hand, _ _
free man's morrow lived in the broadest way imaginable,
in his rush lit, too far back for messuagins,
before Joshua and judges had given us numbers,
or Helveticus had committed deuteronomy.
Go, man.
Now, _ during mighty odd years,
this man of hard cement and edifices,
in toper's thought,
_ piled bildung, supra bildung,
from the banks of the livers for the so-and-so.
_ A Woolworth of a skyscraper, _
_ entirely originating from next to nothing, _
with a burning bush above of its bobbletop,
and with laden-soaked tools as clittered not the Thomas O'Bucket,
sluttered him down. _
Now, the first was he to bear arms,
and a name,
_ _ Wassily Boozily of Resengebumb.
_ _ _ _ Ho, ho, ho, Mr.
Finn,
you're going to be fined again. _ _
Ha, ha, ha, Mr.
Fun,
you're going to be Mr.
Finn again.
Oh, oh, but dim,
[Bb] he stuttered from the lather.
_ [Ab] Damn, _ he [B] was dull.
_ _ _ _ _ Tim Finnegan lived in [Abm] Walkin' Street,
[B] a gentle [Gb] Irishman, mighty odd.
He had a [Abm] brogue, both rich and [B] sweet,
and to rise in the [Gb] world he carried a [B] hod.
You see, the [Abm] sort of a [E] titler's way,
with a love for [Gb] the liquor, Tim was born.
[B] To help the man with his [Db] work each day,
he'd drop at the cradle [B] every morning.
And whack for the daddo,
[E] that's dear partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, the [E] truth I told you,
lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
_ One morning, [Abm] Tim felt rather [B] full,
his head felt [Gbm] heavy, which made him [B] shake.
He fell off [E] the lather and he broke his skull,
they carried [Gb] him home, his corpse [B] to wake. _ _
They rolled him up in [Abm] a nice clean [E] sheet,
laid him out upon the bed,
[B] with a gallon of whiskey at his [E] feet,
and a bottle of port, there [B] at his head.
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and [B] shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
His friends [Abm] assembled at the [E] wake,
and Mrs.
[Gb] Finnegan called for lunch.
First they [Abm] brought him tea and [E] cake,
then pipes, tobacco [B] and whiskey punch.
_ Biddy O [Ab]'Brien began to cry,
[E] such a nice clean corpse did [B] you ever see? _
And Tim O [Abm]'Bourneen, why did you die?
[E] And I shut your [B] mouth, says Biddy McGee.
And whack for the [Abm] daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
Then Maggie O'Connor took up [E] the job,
oh Biddy says she [Gb] a wrong I'm [Gb] sure.
Biddy gave [Abm] her a belt in the gob
[E] and she left her sprawling on [B] the floor.
Then the war did [Ab] soon engage us,
woman to woman and man to man.
Jalali law was all the rage
and her own eruption [B] soon began.
And whack for the daddo,
that's dear partner,
wet the flour [Gb] your tongue and shake.
One day, [Abm] the truth I told you,
[E] lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
Then Mickey O'Connor ducked [E] his head
when a bucket [Gb] of whiskey flew at him.
[B] It missed [Abm] and fallen [E] on the bed,
the liquor scatters over [B] Tim.
_ _ _ [E] He got he [Abm] revised, _
[Eb] see how he rises.
_ [E] _ Timothy rising [Bb] from the bed,
saying whirl your whiskey [Abm] around like blazes.
_ [E] Converting lightning, do you think I'm [B] dead?
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, [E] the truth I told you,
lots of [Gbm] fun and [B] Finnegan's wife. _ _
_ [N] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ Well, that's probably whiskey.
Or it might be champagne, you never know.
Do you know that the word whiskey comes from the old Gaelic iscabaha,
which means the water of life.
Ah!
_ Well, there [F] was a builder's [B] laborer in Dublin who was very fond of that same iscabaha.
And one morning after the night before, he was up on a lather,
and he got dizzy, and he fell and broke his skull.
_ [Eb] And they carried him home and they had a wake for him.
_ And at this wake, there was music, dancing, [Bb] drinking, fighting,
[E] everything you should have at a good wake.
_ _ What about the [D] lovemaker? _ _
Well, there was a song, a Dublin street [F] ballad about this wake.
And there was also a novel by James Joyce, that famous Irish author James Joyce,
who wrote a very complicated, involved novel based on that street ballad.
And he gave it the same title, Finnegan's Wake.
[Gb] Now, we're going to sing the ballad, but first, by way of introduction [B] and explanation.
Tom is going to read for us the entire novel by James [Bm] Joyce, Finnegan's [B] Wake.
Goodbye, Tom.
Goodbye.
_ _ _ Big Mr.
Finnegan, _ of the [N] stuttered hand, _ _
free man's morrow lived in the broadest way imaginable,
in his rush lit, too far back for messuagins,
before Joshua and judges had given us numbers,
or Helveticus had committed deuteronomy.
Go, man.
Now, _ during mighty odd years,
this man of hard cement and edifices,
in toper's thought,
_ piled bildung, supra bildung,
from the banks of the livers for the so-and-so.
_ A Woolworth of a skyscraper, _
_ entirely originating from next to nothing, _
with a burning bush above of its bobbletop,
and with laden-soaked tools as clittered not the Thomas O'Bucket,
sluttered him down. _
Now, the first was he to bear arms,
and a name,
_ _ Wassily Boozily of Resengebumb.
_ _ _ _ Ho, ho, ho, Mr.
Finn,
you're going to be fined again. _ _
Ha, ha, ha, Mr.
Fun,
you're going to be Mr.
Finn again.
Oh, oh, but dim,
[Bb] he stuttered from the lather.
_ [Ab] Damn, _ he [B] was dull.
_ _ _ _ _ Tim Finnegan lived in [Abm] Walkin' Street,
[B] a gentle [Gb] Irishman, mighty odd.
He had a [Abm] brogue, both rich and [B] sweet,
and to rise in the [Gb] world he carried a [B] hod.
You see, the [Abm] sort of a [E] titler's way,
with a love for [Gb] the liquor, Tim was born.
[B] To help the man with his [Db] work each day,
he'd drop at the cradle [B] every morning.
And whack for the daddo,
[E] that's dear partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, the [E] truth I told you,
lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
_ One morning, [Abm] Tim felt rather [B] full,
his head felt [Gbm] heavy, which made him [B] shake.
He fell off [E] the lather and he broke his skull,
they carried [Gb] him home, his corpse [B] to wake. _ _
They rolled him up in [Abm] a nice clean [E] sheet,
laid him out upon the bed,
[B] with a gallon of whiskey at his [E] feet,
and a bottle of port, there [B] at his head.
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and [B] shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
His friends [Abm] assembled at the [E] wake,
and Mrs.
[Gb] Finnegan called for lunch.
First they [Abm] brought him tea and [E] cake,
then pipes, tobacco [B] and whiskey punch.
_ Biddy O [Ab]'Brien began to cry,
[E] such a nice clean corpse did [B] you ever see? _
And Tim O [Abm]'Bourneen, why did you die?
[E] And I shut your [B] mouth, says Biddy McGee.
And whack for the [Abm] daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One [Abm] day, the truth I [E] told you,
lots of [B] fun and Finnegan's wife.
Then Maggie O'Connor took up [E] the job,
oh Biddy says she [Gb] a wrong I'm [Gb] sure.
Biddy gave [Abm] her a belt in the gob
[E] and she left her sprawling on [B] the floor.
Then the war did [Ab] soon engage us,
woman to woman and man to man.
Jalali law was all the rage
and her own eruption [B] soon began.
And whack for the daddo,
that's dear partner,
wet the flour [Gb] your tongue and shake.
One day, [Abm] the truth I told you,
[E] lots of fun and [B] Finnegan's wife.
Then Mickey O'Connor ducked [E] his head
when a bucket [Gb] of whiskey flew at him.
[B] It missed [Abm] and fallen [E] on the bed,
the liquor scatters over [B] Tim.
_ _ _ [E] He got he [Abm] revised, _
[Eb] see how he rises.
_ [E] _ Timothy rising [Bb] from the bed,
saying whirl your whiskey [Abm] around like blazes.
_ [E] Converting lightning, do you think I'm [B] dead?
And whack for [Abm] the daddo,
that's dear [E] partner,
wet the [Gb] flour your tongue and shake.
One day, [E] the truth I told you,
lots of [Gbm] fun and [B] Finnegan's wife. _ _
_ [N] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _