William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

One More for Finnegan

Am I serious, or joking? Do I ask this in fun, or do I really not know? Am I neither? Am I both? Laughter comes from a deep well. Tears are melted snow. Smile at my funeral, smile when I go. And smile at this grave fool’s work I do, especially so, especially so.

 
One More for Finnegan

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.

Songs and Letters, February 14, 2006

Categories: Songs and Letters

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