Rumours of Ronnie's demise are grossly exaggerated, there is life in the ould dog yet.


Then Micky Maloney ducked his head
When a bottle of whiskey flew at him,
It missed, and landed on the bed
And the whiskey scattered all over Tim!
Bedad! he revives! See how he raises!
Tim Finnigan rising in the bed,
Says,"Whirl your whiskey 'round like blazes
Be the tundering jasus! Do you thunk I'm dead?"

Whack fol de da, now dance with your partner
Round the floor your trotters shake
Isn't it the truth I told ye,
Lots of fun at Finnegan's wake.

Good on ye Ronnie boy.