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