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Finnegans Knots Video (MV)




Performed By: Mark Sheeky
Length: 11:28
Written by: Mark Sheeky




Mark Sheeky - Finnegans Knots Lyrics




What does Coemghen?
Tell his hidings clearly! A woodtoo-gooder
Is his moraltack still his best of weapons?
How about a little more goaling goold?
Rowlin's tun he gadder no must
It is the voice of Roga
His face is the face of a son
Be thine the silent hall, O Jarama!

A virgin, the one, shall mourn thee
Roga's stream is solence
But Croona is in adestance
The ass of the O'Dwyer of Greyglens is abrowtobayse
Afeald in his terroirs of the Potterton's
Forecoroners, the reeks around the burleyhearthed

When visited by an indepondant
Reporter, "Mike" Portlund, to burrow
Burning the latterman's Resterant
So is called the gortan in questure
He mikes the fallowing for the Durban Gazette
Firstcoming issue
From a collispendent
Any were
Deemsday
Bosse of Upper and Lower Byggotstrade
Ciwareke
May he live for river!
The Games funeral at Valleytemple
Saturnights pomps
Exhabiting that corricatore of a harss
Revealled by Oscur Camerad
The last of Dutch Schulds, perhumps
Pipe in Dream Cluse

Uncovers Pub History
The Outrage, at Length
Affected Mob Follows in Religious Sullivence
Rinvention of vestiges by which they drugged the buddhy
Moviefigure on in scenic section
By Patathicus
And there, from out of the scuity
Misty Londan, along the canavan route
That is with the years gone
Mild beam of the wave his polar bearing
Steerner among stars, trust touthena and you
Tread true turf
Comes the sorter
Mr Hurr Hansen
Talking allthe-ways in himself of his hopes
To fall in among a merryfoule of maidens
Happynghome from the dance
His knyckle allaready in his knackskey fob
A passable compatriate proparly of the
Grimstad galleon, old pairs frieze
Feed up to the noxer with their geese
And peeas and oats upon a trencher

And the toyms he'd lust in Wooming
But with that smeoil like a grace of backoning
Over his egglips of the sunsoonshine
Here's heering you in a guessmasque, latterman!
And such an improofment!
As royt as the mail and as fat as a fuddle!
Schoen!
Shoan!
Shoon the Puzt!
A penny for your thought abouts!
Tay, tibby, tanny, tummy, tasty, tosty, tay
Batch is for Baker who baxters our bread
O, what an ovenly odour!
Butter butter!
Bring us this days our maily bag!
But receive me, my frensheets
From the emerald dark winterlong!
For diss is the doss for Eilder Downes
And dass is it duss
As singen sengers
What the hardworking straightwalking stoutstamping
Securelysealing officials who trow
To form our G.M.P.'s pass muster
Generally shay for shee and sloo
For slee when butting their headd
To the pillow for a nightshared nakeshift
With the alter girl they tuck in for sweepsake
Dutiful wealker for his hydes of march

Haves you the time
Hans ahike?
Heard you the crime, senny boy?
The man was giddy on letties
On the dewry of the duary, be pursueded
Whethered with entrenous, midgreys, dagos, teatimes, shadows
Nocturnes or samoans
If wellstocked fillerouters plushfeverfraus
With dopy chonks
And this
That and the other pigskin or muffle kinkles
Taking a pipe course or doing an anguish
Seen to his fleece in after his foull
When Dr Chart of Greet Chorsles street
He changed his backbone at a citting

He had not the declaination
As what with the foos
As whet with the fays
But so far as hanging a goobes
On the precedings
Wherethen the lag allows
It mights be anything after darks
Which the deers alones they sees
And the darkies they is snuffing of the wind up
Debbling

Greanteavvents!
Hyacinssies with heliotrollops!
Not once
Fullvixen freakings and but dubbledecoys!
It is a lable iction on
The porte of the cuthulic church
And summum most atole for it

Where is that blinketey blanketer
That quound of a pealer
The sunt of a hunt whant foxes good men!
Where or he
Our loved
Among many?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




What does Coemghen?
Tell his hidings clearly! A woodtoo-gooder
Is his moraltack still his best of weapons?
How about a little more goaling goold?
Rowlin's tun he gadder no must
It is the voice of Roga
His face is the face of a son
Be thine the silent hall, O Jarama!

A virgin, the one, shall mourn thee
Roga's stream is solence
But Croona is in adestance
The ass of the O'Dwyer of Greyglens is abrowtobayse
Afeald in his terroirs of the Potterton's
Forecoroners, the reeks around the burleyhearthed

When visited by an indepondant
Reporter, "Mike" Portlund, to burrow
Burning the latterman's Resterant
So is called the gortan in questure
He mikes the fallowing for the Durban Gazette
Firstcoming issue
From a collispendent
Any were
Deemsday
Bosse of Upper and Lower Byggotstrade
Ciwareke
May he live for river!
The Games funeral at Valleytemple
Saturnights pomps
Exhabiting that corricatore of a harss
Revealled by Oscur Camerad
The last of Dutch Schulds, perhumps
Pipe in Dream Cluse

Uncovers Pub History
The Outrage, at Length
Affected Mob Follows in Religious Sullivence
Rinvention of vestiges by which they drugged the buddhy
Moviefigure on in scenic section
By Patathicus
And there, from out of the scuity
Misty Londan, along the canavan route
That is with the years gone
Mild beam of the wave his polar bearing
Steerner among stars, trust touthena and you
Tread true turf
Comes the sorter
Mr Hurr Hansen
Talking allthe-ways in himself of his hopes
To fall in among a merryfoule of maidens
Happynghome from the dance
His knyckle allaready in his knackskey fob
A passable compatriate proparly of the
Grimstad galleon, old pairs frieze
Feed up to the noxer with their geese
And peeas and oats upon a trencher

And the toyms he'd lust in Wooming
But with that smeoil like a grace of backoning
Over his egglips of the sunsoonshine
Here's heering you in a guessmasque, latterman!
And such an improofment!
As royt as the mail and as fat as a fuddle!
Schoen!
Shoan!
Shoon the Puzt!
A penny for your thought abouts!
Tay, tibby, tanny, tummy, tasty, tosty, tay
Batch is for Baker who baxters our bread
O, what an ovenly odour!
Butter butter!
Bring us this days our maily bag!
But receive me, my frensheets
From the emerald dark winterlong!
For diss is the doss for Eilder Downes
And dass is it duss
As singen sengers
What the hardworking straightwalking stoutstamping
Securelysealing officials who trow
To form our G.M.P.'s pass muster
Generally shay for shee and sloo
For slee when butting their headd
To the pillow for a nightshared nakeshift
With the alter girl they tuck in for sweepsake
Dutiful wealker for his hydes of march

Haves you the time
Hans ahike?
Heard you the crime, senny boy?
The man was giddy on letties
On the dewry of the duary, be pursueded
Whethered with entrenous, midgreys, dagos, teatimes, shadows
Nocturnes or samoans
If wellstocked fillerouters plushfeverfraus
With dopy chonks
And this
That and the other pigskin or muffle kinkles
Taking a pipe course or doing an anguish
Seen to his fleece in after his foull
When Dr Chart of Greet Chorsles street
He changed his backbone at a citting

He had not the declaination
As what with the foos
As whet with the fays
But so far as hanging a goobes
On the precedings
Wherethen the lag allows
It mights be anything after darks
Which the deers alones they sees
And the darkies they is snuffing of the wind up
Debbling

Greanteavvents!
Hyacinssies with heliotrollops!
Not once
Fullvixen freakings and but dubbledecoys!
It is a lable iction on
The porte of the cuthulic church
And summum most atole for it

Where is that blinketey blanketer
That quound of a pealer
The sunt of a hunt whant foxes good men!
Where or he
Our loved
Among many?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Mark Sheeky
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Mark Sheeky

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