One More for Finnegan

        The Grave-diggerís Song
Itís one more for Finnegan,
Then we go on home.
Michael to his pretty wife,
And me to the burying ground,
Me to the burying ground.

I dig a hole for Finnegan,
And let him fall right in.
Dig a hole for Finnegan,
For dear old Finnegan I dig,
My sweat all running down.

Finnegan, says I to him,
You were right to go.
Thereís nothing for us here,
No fields to plow nor anyhow,
To pay us for our tears.

Then Finnegan he rolls over
And looks his eyes at me.
Half a smile and half a frown,
Finnegan he rolls on over,
Like a drunk man in his shroud.

Says old Finnegan to me,
Whatís that yer prayin, Willie boy?
Have ya lost yer gourd?
From where I sit it just donít fit,
Then he begins to snore.

Well, thatís Finnegan for sure,
Always gets the last word in.
But it ainít no sin for a man like him,
No sin in the burying ground,
No sin in the burying ground.

February 14, 2006

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