Brian O Linn had no breeches to wear
He got an old sheepskin to make him a pair
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,
“They’ll be pleasant and cool,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn had no shirt on his back,
He went to a neighbour’s, and borrowed a sack,
Then he puckered the meal bag in under his chin –
“Sure they’ll take them for ruffles,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn was hard up for a coat,
So he borrowed the skin of a neighbouring goat,
With the horns sticking out from his oxsters, and then,
“Sure they’ll take them for pistols,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn had no hat to put on,
So he got and old beaver to make him a one,
There was none of the crown left and less of the brim,
“Sure there’s fine ventilation,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn had no brogues for his toes,
He hopped in two crab-shells to serve him for those.
Then he split two oysters that match’d like a twin,
“Sure they’ll shine out like buckles,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn had no watch to put on,
So he scooped out a turnip to make him a one.
Then he placed a young cricket in-under the skin –
“Sure they’ll think it’s ticking,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn to his house had no door,
He’d the sky for a roof, and the bog for a floor;
He’d a way to jump out, and a way to swim in,
“’Tis a fine habitation,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn went a-courting one night,
He set both the mother and daughter to fight;
To fight for his hand they both striped to the skin,
“Sure! I’ll marry you both,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn, his wife and wife’s mother,
They all lay down in the bed together,
The sheets they were old, and the blankets were thin,
“Lie close to the wall,” says Brian O Linn.

Brian O Linn his wife and wife’s mother,
Were all going home o’er the bridge together,
The bridge it broke down, and they all tumbled in,
“We’ll go home by the water,” says Brian O Linn.