Finnegan the Folk Hero

In a field of corn

Is a master's shoe

Click the master's shoe

There's a blue-tailed fly

Click a blind man's foot

See a horse's tail

It's down to Finnegan

The folk hero of HTML

This is the tale

Of a clever sod

HTML

Was his gift from God

He slaved all night

Coding the master's site

Never paid a cent

What was his by rights

How the website burns

Since Finnegan fell!

Let's pray that he returns

From web designer hell

He's the only one can fix it

Fix it good and well

Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML

He could stream Quicktime

He could code in Flash

He could make your icons dance with Java

Then empty out your trash

But Finnegan's dead

Rotted clean away

Because the bastard master

Never gave him any pay

How the bastard yells

Cos the website's down

When he taps his URLs

All he gets is '404 Not Found'

By the coffee machine

Screaming Finnegan's name

But the folk hero is dead

And there is no-one left to blame

We've lost our shirts

Now Finnegan's gone

If he had got his just deserts

We could've been cracking merrily on

Cos there was just one man could fix it

Fix it good and well

That's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML

When the web is quiet

On a moonlit night

There is phantom code

On the master's site

Some say it's spiders

Or a bot from hell

Like hell! It's Finnegan, the folk hero of HTML