There was an old man named Michael Finnegan
He grew whiskers on his chinnegan
Along came the wind and blew them in again
Poor old Michael Finnegan begin again
Remember Michael Finnegan? I have no idea who he was or what ever story this song is actually about, but I have loved it my whole life. It's so much fun with all the rhyming 'Finnegan' words. And how possibly do whiskers get blown inwards. If it didn't worry me somewhat with ingrown hairs, and that sort of pain and infection... I would be trying to remove unwanted hair this way... I have a few on my chinnegan sometimes.
The weekend begins! Full of unknown surprises and fun. I love the beginning of the weekend with wondering what sorts of things we might all get up to. Sipping on coffee thinking of the possibilities.
Do you picture Michael Finnegan as a crusty old fisherman? With a weathered leathery face and whiskers of course. Although I have never been able to imagine the picture of him with his whiskers blown in. I bet he has a surprised kind of pinched look on his face after something like that.
I'm sorry. I am way to full of silliness today. I wish you every success in your serious ventures. but if you do find any insights into who this Michael Finnegan really was, please share. I am thinking of him today.
Love you - happy weekend