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
And 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
And 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 desserts
We could've been cracking merrily on
'cause there was just one man could fix it
Fix it good and well
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
