Thursday
Jan. 24, 2002
Brian O'Linn
Poem: "Brian O'Linn," by Anonymous.
Brian O'Linn
Brian O'Linn was
a gentleman born,
He lived at a time when no clothes they were worn.
As fashions were out of course Brian walked in-
'I'll soon head the fashions,' says Brian O'Linn.
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 to 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 an 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 up 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 is 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 stripped 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.
On this day in 1984, Apple Computer unveiled its new personal computer at the company's annual meeting in Cupertino, California. Apple called its new computer "Macintosh."
On this day in 1908, Sir Robert Baden-Powell published the first of six fortnightly installments of his new book, Scouting for Boys. He developed a plan for establishing a new organization, which would be called the Boy Scouts.
It's the birthday of American novelist Edith (Newbold) Wharton, born in New York City (1862). Born into a socially prominent New York family, her first book was called The Decoration of Houses (1897), co-written with Ogden Codman, the architect of her own summer house in Newport, Rhode Island. She established a reputation as a novelist with The House of Mirth (1905), about a young women ruined by the suffocating prejudices of upper-class New York society. She returned to the theme of stifling social conventions in other works, including her Pulitzer Prize winning novel The Age of Innocence (1920). She lived for many years in France, where she aided refugees during World War I, and where she died in 1937. One of her closest literary friends was the novelist Henry James. The only real source of tension between them was the fact that her novels sold better than his.
It's the birthday of German writer and composer Ernst Theodor Amadeus Hoffmann, E.T.A. Hoffmann, born in Königsberg, Prussia (1776). Richard Wagner's opera Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg (1868) is based on stories by Hoffmann, as are Jacques Offenbach's opera The Tales of Hoffmann (1881), Leo Delibes' ballet Coppelia (1870), and Tchaikovsky's ballet The Nutcracker (1892).
It's the birthday of the French writer Pierre-Augustin Caron de Beaumarchais, born in Paris (1732). His reputation rests on two plays, Le Barber de Séville (The Barber of Seville, 1766) and Le Mariage de Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro, 1785). The plays were both made into famous operas, the former by Rossini and the latter by Mozart.
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