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Updated: May 10, 2025
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.
I bear the old creature a great-grandson's love or a step or two farther off, if you will, and come and go too often to forget the relationship. But, much as I love her, the affection is not strong enough to go ashore on her shoals, and so we will go about, Mr. Leach; at the same time, I wish from my heart that two-lugged rascal would go about his business."
And I pulled out of my jacket pocket a little two-lugged red earthenware pot, and poured out a chinking heap of something that glinted with many colours in the lamplight. "Look there! Essence of rainbows, a good half-pint. Who says half a loaf isn't better than no bread?" "Good Lord!" said Haigh. And after a pause, "Who have you been robbing?" "Grub first, and then yarn.
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