Tim Finnegan lived in Walkin’ Street A gentle Irishman mighty odd; He’d a beautiful brogue both rich and sweet And to rise in the world he carried a hod. Now Tim had a sort of the tipplin’ way With a love of for the liquor poor Tim was born And to help him on with…
It was down by Brannigan’s corner one morning I did stray. I met a fellow rebel and to me he did say He had orders from our Captain to assemble at Dunbar But how were we to get there without a motor car. Oh Barney dear be of good cheer I’ll tell you what you’ll…
Well Mary was a lass From the lower class She was an Irish emigree When she arrived in New York In a kitchen she found work Cooking meals in the Bowery In that kitchen Mary baked and never took a break and the people wolfed it down But bellies growled more than they should From…