Tim Finnegan lived in Wattling Street. A gentle Irishman mighty odd. He'd a beautiful brogue so rich and sweet. To rise in the world he carried a hod.
Come all you gallant heroes,. And along with me combined. I'll sing a song, it won't take long,. Of the fighting sixty ninth. They're a band of men brave, stout and bold,.
Riot tonight everybody let's go!. Gonna start a fight but with who? I don't fucking know. Riot tonight everybody let's go!. Gonna start a fight but with who? I don't fucking know.
Here in the trenches the fist of the Beast. For fear of an atmosphere poisoned deceased. With a gas mask to keep me from breathing my death. It's American soil I hope for at best.