I never knew there were so many words to the Michael Finnegan song.
From Wikipedia:
There was an old man called Michael Finn-egan,
He grew whiskers on his chin-igan,
The wind came up and blew them in-again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin-again.
There was an old man called Michael Finn-egan,
He kicked up an awful din-igan.
Because they said he must not sing again.
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin-again.
There was an old man called Michael Finn-egan,
Ran a race and tried to win again.
Got so puffed that he had to go in again.
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin-again.
There was an old man called Michael Finnegan,
He drank through all his good gin again.
And so he wasted all his tin again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again.
There was an old man called Michael Finnegan,
He went fishing with a pin again.
He caught a fish but dropped it in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin again.
There was an old man called Michael Finn-egan,
Climbed a tree and barked his shin-igan,
Took off several yards of skin-igan,
Poor old Michael Finnegan. Begin-again.
There was an old man called Michael Finn-egan,
He grew fat and then grew thin again.
Then he died and had to begin again.
Poor old Michael Finnegan. The end-i-gin.