Brian O’Linn had no breeches to wear,
He got him a sheepskin to make him a pair,
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,—
“They are pleasant and cool,” says Brian O’Linn!
Brian O’Linn had no hat to his head,
He stuck on a pot that was under the shed,
He murdered a cod for the sake of his fin,—
“’T will pass for a feather,” says Brian O’Linn!
Brian O’Linn had no shirt to his back,
He went to a neighbour and borrowed a sack,