I found this in Wehman Bros.' Pocket-Size Irish Song Book, No. 2 (New York: Wehman Bros., 1909), page 37:


MIKE BRADY'S SHIRT.

My name is Michael Brady, and I am not ashamed to own
I am honest and I am dacent if I am only left alone;
But the gang that hangs around me they are a terrible clan,
And when I moved around them I was like a crazy man.
They roar and bawl the whole night long, with conversation strong.
I haven't slept for forty nights in the house where I belong,

Now the first one to kick up a row was Chateau Jane McGee—
If my wife don't go up and fight with her, she'll come and fight with me.
She stole a shirt from our back-yard and gave it to her son Dan.
I took it from his back in a ball-room; by the owner I am the man.
I made a holy show of him; I ran him down like dirt.
And he near goes mad when the boys all cry, "Who stole Mike Brady's shirt?"

Their rooms is to let in the parlor; Italians just moved in,
With fourteen harps and fiddlers, all dacent working min.
What Mary McGaskin did last night, I swear it was a sin.
She trun her durty dish-water on the mackirony min.
Such holy murder you never heard since the day that you were born,
Was among them darned Italians in the house where I belong.

Now there's my daughter Johanna; she sings "Eilann* Asthore."
She goes to balls and picnics with a huzzy of a girl next door.
McFarling's boy he stole a goat and he put it in our wood-shed.
If he ever does the like agin, I'll break his father's head.
I am glad I am going to leave them to let them bawl and shout.
I'll take down the stove to-morrow and be heavins I'll move out.

[* Not sure I got the spelling right; the print is barely legible at this point.]