One More for Finnegan

One More for Finnegan *The Grave-digger’s Song*
It’s 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. There’s 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, What’s that yer prayin, Willie boy? Have ya lost yer gourd? From where I sit it just don’t fit, Then he begins to snore. Well, that’s Finnegan for sure, Always gets the last word in. But it ain’t no sin for a man like him, No sin in the burying ground, No sin in the burying ground. *February 14, 2006* Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author	Main Page Author’s Note Background Notebook A Listening Thing Among the Living No Time to Cut My Hair One Hand Clapping Songs and Letters Collected Poems Early Short Stories Armenian Translations Interviews News and Reviews Highly Recommended Let’s Eat Favorite Books & Authors Useless Information Conversation E-mail & Parting Thoughts Flippantly Answered Questions
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