There was an old man named
Michael Finnegan
You’ll get to live again—
or someone will—
when eternity sloughs off its skin again.
He grew whiskers on his chin-ne-gan.
The wind came up and blew 'em back in again.
Poor old Michael Finnegan!
Begin again.
The wind came up and blew 'em back in again.
Poor old Michael Finnegan!
Begin again.
You’ll get to live again—
or someone will—
when eternity sloughs off its skin again.