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