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Updated: May 14, 2025
Caldwell acknowledged with a sigh, apologetically. Beth shovelled some spoonfuls of pudding into her mouth very quickly. "That's the money bother again," she said, and then she sang out at the top of her voice "Bryan O'Lynn had no breeches to wear, He bought a sheepskin for to make him a pair, With the skinny side out, and the woolly side in, 'They're warm in the winter, said Bryan O'Lynn."
'Och, pacible, pacible, my son, said Father Roach, patting his arm, and soothing him with his voice. It was the phrase he used to address to his nag, Brian O'Lynn, when Brian had too much oats, and was disagreeably playful. 'Nansinse, now, can't you be pacible pacible my son there now, pacible, pacible.
Whoo hurroo! my darlings success to the Findramore boys! Hurroo hurroo the Findramore boys for ever!" "Boys, did ever ye hear the song Mat made on Ned Mullen's fight wid Jemmy Connor's gander? Well here is part of it, to the tune of 'Brian O'Lynn' 'As Ned and the gander wor basting each other, I hard a loud cry from the gray goose, his mother; I ran to assist him, wid very great speed.
An enemy christened him Resolving Kavanagh. Every time he resolved to stand where he always stood he revolved. Everybody put up at his house. He was seen in more torchlight processions than Bryan O'Lynn. The homes of the people were full of the stumps of burned-down candles, the remains of great illuminations for my cousin whenever he came out of prison.
Another favorite song of hers, God rest her, was 'Brian O'Lynn. Troth an' I'll sing it, so I will, for if she was livin' she'd like it. 'Och, Brian O'Lynn, he had milk an' male, A two-lugged porringer wanfcin' a tail. Oh, my head's through other! The sarra one o' me I bleeve, but's out o' the words, or, as they say, there's a hole in the ballad. Send round the punch will ye?
Och, och, she's lyin' low that often laughed at that, an' I'm here ay, I have no one, no one that 'ud show me sich a warm heart as she would. I'll sing yez a song she liked: 'Och, Brian O'Lynn, he had milk an' male, A two-lugged porringer wantin' a tail. Musha, I'm out agin ha, ha, ha! Why, I b'lieve there's pishthrogues an me, or I'd remember it. Bud-an-age, dhrink of all ye.
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