The Bradys of Killane

The weather it was cold and rough, right in the wintertime,
There was roads to clane, and sheughs till drain, to mix and scatter lime,
You’ll have to be a good servant and do the best you can,
For if you don’t you’ll not be long wi’ the Bradys of Killane.

I went into my bed that night, upon it I did roll,
Oh the fleas they made a bold attempt my kidney for to hole,
They gathered round me in thousands my poor hide for to tan
And I soon found out the fleas slept none in the Bradys of Killane.

About three o’clock in the morning I heard an awful row,
I looked out through the window, saw something like a sow.
She said, ‘Come get a bucket and something quick for Nan’
For the old sow knew her master was The Brady of Killane.

I went in for my breakfast, there was nothing I could see,
But a pack of hungry children, ‘Leave something there for me.’
They tortured and tormented me, that cursed crooked clan,
Oh they’d shout and roar and call for more at the Bradys of Killane.

I worked down in the fields all day till me hand would har’ly shut,
And only the skin was brave and tough the bones would sure have cut.
I watched and prayed both night and day that the Lord would send a van,
For to take me from that cruel spot called Bradys of Killane.

[This song is also sung as Bradys Of Strabane.]