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The Ancient Old French Letter (Condom) of Brian Boru
(Tune: Rosin the Beau)
I was up to my whiskers in mud, sir,
A-doing my bit in the bog,
When my spade it struck something quite hard, sir,
Like a bit of a stone on a log.
'Twas a chest of the finest bog-oak, sir—
And, wondering what it might hide,
I just said, 'Well, bugger the fairies!
I'll take, sir, a wee peep inside.'
And now, sir, you'll hardly believe me,
But what I will tell you is true:
'Twas an ancient Irish french letter,
A relic of Brian Boru.
'Twas an ancient old Irish french letter,
Made of elk-hide and full a foot long,
With a little gold tab on the end, sir,
With his name and his stud-fee thereon.
So I turned by my mind o'er the ages,
To the days of that hoary old Celt,
And I saw Gramurel on the bed, sir,
And Brian Boru in his pelt.
I distinctly heard Brian declaring:
'Now, my dear, we must get this thing right,
You had it your own way last night, dear,
It's the hairy side outside tonight!'
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