Irish Folk Tales

by Henry Glassie

  When she came asking if he had the comb, he said he had, and the head that was combed with it, and he threw her the head of the King of Poison.

  When she saw the head there was great anger on her, and she told him he never would get her to marry until he got a footman to travel with her runner for three bottles of the healing-balm out of the well of the western world; and if her own runner should come back more quickly than his runner, she said his head was gone.

  She got an old hag—some witch—and she gave her three bottles. The short green man bade them give three bottles to the man who was keeping the field of hares, and they were given to him. The hag and the man started, and three bottles with each of them. And the runner of the king’s son was coming back halfway on the road home, while the hag had only gone halfway to the well. “Sit down,” said the hag to the foot-runner, when they met, “and take your rest, for the pair of them are married now, and don’t be breaking your heart running.” She brought over a horse’s head and a slumber-pin in it, and laid it under his head, and when he laid down his head on it he fell asleep. She spilt out the water he had and she went.

  The short green man thought it long until they were coming, and he said to the earman: “Lay your ear to the ground and try are they coming.”

  “I hear the hag a-coming,” said he. “But the footman is in his sleep, and I hear him a-snoring.”

  “Look from you,” said the short green man to the gunman, “till you see where the foot-runner is.”

  The gunman looked, and he said that the footman was in such and such a place, and a horse’s skull under his head, and he in his sleeping.

  “Lay your gun to your eye,” said the short green man, “and put the skull away from under his head.”

  He put the gun to his eye and he swept the skull from under his head. The footman woke up, and he found that the bottles which he had were empty, and it was necessary for him to return to the well again.

  The hag was coming then, and the foot-runner was not to be seen. Says the short green man to the man who was sending round the windmill with his nostril: “Rise up and try would you put back that hag.” He put his finger to his nose, and when the hag was coming he put a blast of wind under her that swept her back again. She was coming again, and he did the same thing to her. Every time she used to be coming near them he would be sending her back with the wind he would blow out of his nostril. At last he blew with the two nostrils and swept the hag back to the western world again. Then the foot-runner of the king of Ireland’s son came, and the day was won.

  There was great anger on the woman when she saw that her own foot-runner did not arrive first, and she said to the king’s son: “You won’t get me now till you have walked three miles, without shoes or stockings, on steel needles.” She had a road three miles long, and sharp needles of steel shaken on it as thick as the grass, and their points up. Said the short green man to the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh: “Go and blunt those.” That man went on them with one thigh, and he made stumps of them. He went on them with the double thigh, and he made powder and prashuch of them. The king of Ireland’s son came and walked the three miles, and then he had his wife gained.

  The couple were married then, and the short green man was to have the first kiss. The short green man took the wife with him into a chamber, and he began on her. She was full up of serpents, and the king’s son would have been killed with them when he went to sleep, but that the short green man picked them out of her.

  He came then to the son of the king of Ireland, and he told him: “You can go with your wife now. I am the man who was in the coffin that day, for whom you paid the ten pounds. And these people who are with you, they are servants whom God has sent to you.”

  The short green man and his people went away then, and the king of Ireland’s son never saw them again. He brought his wife home with him, and they spent a happy life with one another.

  THE SHRINE OF SAINT MOGUE

  Margaret Stokes, Early Christian Art in Ireland, 1890

  THE BAPTISM OF CONOR MACNESSA

  SEOSAMH Ó COLLA DONEGAL

  SEAN O’SULLIVAN 1938

  Long ago people were few, and the priests used to travel about saying Mass and spending a night here and there. Some of them arrived at a house and they asked the boy to go out and cut some rushes with a sickle to make a bed. The boy went out to a clump of rushes, and a voice spoke to him from out the clump:

  “Don’t put me out of my dwelling.”

  The boy went away from the clump and told the priests in the house what had happened.

  “Didn’t you bring the rushes?” they asked.

  “No, Father,” said he to one of them. “If I told you what I have heard, you wouldn’t go there either.”

  “Come along and show me where this was said.”

  They went out to the clump. The priest put on his stole and read something, and a voice spoke from the clump.

  “Who are you?” asked the priest.

  “I am Conor of Ulster,” said the voice.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since the Savior was crucified,” said the voice.

  “And what put you here?” asked the priest.

  “It happened this way. I was in a battle, and a piece of something entered my skull. When I heard later on that the Savior was crucified, frenzy came upon me. I went out into the woods with my sword, and the piece fell out of my skull, and I died. The Savior then put my soul into my skull until the Day of Judgment.”

  “I’ll baptize you now, and you will go to Heaven,” said the priest.

  “Must I die a second time?” asked the voice.

  “You must.”

  “Oh, Father, I’d rather stay in my skull until the Day of Judgment,” said the voice.

  When the priest heard these words, tears fell from his eyes down on the clump, and Conor of Ulster immediately rose up from it like an angel.

  “I’m on my way to Heaven now, Father!” said he. “Your tears have baptized me!”

  SAINT PATRICK

  GALWAY

  LADY GREGORY 1926

  There were many great saints in Ireland, but Saint Patrick was the bush among them all. He used to be traveling and blessing all before him.

  He was about seventy years when God bade him come to Ireland, and he didn’t like to be put out of his way, being old, and he said he would not come.

  So then God said if he would not come he would give him a bad next-door neighbor that would be fighting and quarreling and slandering him.

  So when he heard that, he said it would be as good to go to Ireland.

  SAINT PATRICK ON INISHMORE

  HUGH NOLAN FERMANAGH

  HENRY GLASSIE 1972

  Well, the principal story that ever I heard related, it was when Saint Patrick came to Ireland.

  He landed down south and he traveled on towards the north.

  And you’d think for to hear about Saint Patrick that he was just a lonely missioner that landed in this country, and he had nobody along with him.

  But he had a very big contingent.

  He had tradesmen of all classes.

  And there was a staff of women for to make vestments (that’d be the robes that the priest would be wearing while he would be saying the Mass), and for to make all the linens in connection with the altars. He had them.

  And he had men then for making the altar vessels and everything that was a-wanting.

  And then he had men for looking after the horses and keeping them shod and keeping them right.

  But they traveled on anyway and finally they got as far as Inishmore.

  They come on right up from the south of Ireland and they were traveling through Inishmore on this occasion.

  And didn’t the horse that he was riding upset, he slipped and he hurted his back, and of course he wasn’t able to get up.

  So there was some kind of an herb, or something in the grass,

  and Saint Patrick lifted it up


  and he rubbed it to the horse’s back,

  and the horse jumped up.

  Well, for years and years after, there used to come people from all airts and parts where they’d get hurts, or bruises, or cuts or anything.

  And there was people, they were the name of Nobles.

  And they were Protestant farmers.

  And it was on their land that this herb was.

  And they were all the men that knew it or could point it out.

  So they used to point it out to these people.

  And they used to apply it.

  So I haven’t heard any word now about it this long time, because the family died out, do ye know, and whether they bequeathed this knowledge they had to anyone else, I never heard.

  But they knew it, and they would point it out to you or me or any other person that was suffering.

  The herb was known as dho. That was the name of it.

  SAINT PATRICK AND CROM DUBH

  MICHAEL MACRUAIDHRI MAYO

  DOUGLAS HYDE 1915

  Before Saint Patrick came to Ireland there lived a chieftain in the Lower Country in County Mayo, and his name was Crom Dubh. Crom Dubh lived beside the sea in a place which they now call Dún Padraig, or Downpatrick, and the name which the site of his house is called by is Dún Briste, or Broken Fort. My story will tell why it was called Dún Briste.

  It was well and it was not ill, brother of my heart! Crom Dubh was one of the worst men that could be found, but as he was a chieftain over the people of that country he had everything his own way; and that was the bad way, for he was an evil-intentioned, virulent, cynical, obstinate man, with desire to be avenged on everyone who did not please him. He had two sons, Téideach and Clonnach, and there is a big hollow going in under the road at Glen Lasaire, and the name of this hollow is Poll a’ Téidigh or Téideach’s Hole, for it got its name from Crom Dubh’s son, and the name of this hole is on the mouth of English-speaking people, though they do not know the meaning of it. Nobody knows how far this hole is going back under the glen, but it is said by the old Irish speakers that Téideach used to go every day in his little floating curragh into this hole under the glen, and that this is the reason it was called Téideach’s Hole.

  It was well, my dear. To continue the story, Crom Dubh’s two sons were worse than himself, and that leaves them bad enough! Crom Dubh had two hounds of dogs and their names were Coinn Iotair and Saidhthe Suaraighe, and if ever there were wicked mastiffs these two dogs were they. He had them tied to the two jaws of the door, in order to loose them and set them to attack people according as they might come that way. And, to go further, he had a big fire kindled on the brink of the cliff so that anyone who might escape from the hounds he might throw into the fire. And to make a long story short, the fame of Crom Dubh and his two sons, and his two mastiffs, went far and wide, for their evil-doing. And the people were so terrified at his name, not to speak of himself, that they used to hide their faces in their bosoms when they used to hear it mentioned in their ears, and the people were so much afraid of him that if they heard the bark of a dog they would go hiding in the dwellings that they had underground, to take refuge in, to defend themselves from Crom Dubh and his mastiffs.

  It is said that there was a linnaun shee or fairy sweetheart walking with Crom Dubh, and giving him knowledge according as he used to require it. In place of his inclining to what was good as he was growing in age, the way he went on was to be growing in badness every day, and the wind was not quicker than he, for he was as nimble as a March hare. When he used to go out about the country he used to send his two sons and his two mastiffs before him, and they announcing to the people according as they proceeded, that Crom Dubh was coming to collect his standing-rent, and bidding them to have it ready for him. Crom Dubh used to come after them, and his trickster along with him, and he drawing after him a sort of yoke like a wheelless sliding car, and according as he used to get his standing-rent it used to be thrown into the car, and everyone had to pay according to his ability. Anyone who would refuse, he used to be brought next day before Crom Dubh, as he sat beside the fire, and Crom used to pass judgment upon him, and after the judgment the man used to be thrown into the fire.

  Many a plan and scheme were hatched against Crom Dubh to put him out of the world, but he overcame them all, for he had too much wizardry from the fairy sweetheart.

  Crom Dubh was continuing his evil deeds for many years, and according as the story about him remains living and told from person to person, they say that he was a native of Hell in the skin of a biped, and through the horror that the people of the country had for him they would have given all that ever they saw if only Crom Dubh and his company could have been put an end to. But there was no help for them in that, since he and his company had the power, and they had to endure bitter persecution for years, and for many years, and every year it was getting worse. And they without any hope of relief because they had no knowledge of God or Mary or of anything else which concerned Heaven. For that reason they could not put trust in any person beyond Crom Dubh, because they thought, bad as he was, that it was he who was giving them the light of the day, the darkness of the night, and the change of seasons.

  It was well, brother of my heart. During this time Saint Patrick was going throughout Ireland, working diligently and baptizing many people. On he went until he came to Fochoill or Foghill. And at that time and for long afterwards there were nothing but woods that grew in that place, but there is neither branch nor tree there now. However, to pursue the story, Saint Patrick began explaining to the pagans about the light and glory of the heavens. Some of them gave ear to him, but the most of them paid him no attention. After he had taken all those who listened to him to the place which was called the Well of the Branch to baptize them, and when he had them baptized, the people called the well Tobar Padraig, or Patrick’s Well, and that is there ever since.

  When these pagans got the seal of Christ on their forehead, and knowledge of the Holy Trinity, they began telling Saint Patrick about the doings of Crom Dubh and his evil ways, and they besought him if he had any power from the Almighty Father to chastise Crom Dubh, rightly or wrongly, or to give him the Christian faith if it were possible.

  It was well, brother, Saint Patrick passed on over through Tráigh Leacan, up Béal Trághadh, down Craobhach, and down under the Logán, the name that was on Crom Dubh’s place before Saint Patrick came. When Saint Patrick reached the Logán, which is near the present Ballycastle, he was within a quarter of a mile of Crom Dubh’s house, and at the same time Crom Dubh and Téideach his son were trying a bout of wrestling with one another, while Saidhthe Suaraighe was stretched out on the ground from ear to tail. With the squeezing they were giving one another they never observed Saint Patrick making for them until Saidhthe Suaraighe put a howling bark out of her, and with that the pair looked behind them and they saw Saint Patrick and his defensive company with him, making for them. And in the twinkling of an eye the two rushed forward, clapping their hands and setting Saidhthe Suaraighe at them and encouraging her.

  With that Téideach put his forefinger into his mouth and let a whistle calling for Coinn Iotair, for she was at that same time hunting with Clonnach on the top of Glen Lasaire, and Glen Lasaire is nearly two miles from Dún Padraig, but she was not as long as while you’d be saying Deo Gratias coming from Glen Lasaire when she heard the sound of the whistle. They urged the two bitches against Saint Patrick, and at the same time they did not know what sort of man Saint Patrick was or where he came from.

  The two bitches made for him and coals of fire out of their mouths, and a blue venomous light burning in their eyes, with the dint of venom and wickedness, but just as they were going to seize Saint Patrick he cut a ring round about him with the crozier which he had in his hand, and before the dogs reached the verge of the ring Saint Patrick spoke as follows:

  “A lock on thy claws, a lock on thy tooth,

  lock on Coinn Iotair of the fury.

  A
lock on the son and on the daughter of Saidhthe Suaraighe.

  A lock quickly, quickly on you.”

  Before Saint Patrick began to utter these words there was a froth of foam round their mouths, and their hair was standing up as strong as harrow-pins with their fury, but after this as they came nearer to Saint Patrick they began to lay down their ears and wag their tails. And when Crom Dubh saw that, he had like to faint, because he knew when they laid down their ears that they would not do any hurt to him they were attacking. The moment they reached Saint Patrick they began jumping up upon him and making friendly with him. They licked both his feet from the top of his great toe to the butt of his ankle, and that affection is amongst dogs from that day to this. Saint Patrick began to stroke them with his hand and he went on making towards Crom Dubh, with the dogs walking at his heels. Crom Dubh ran until he came to the fire and he stood up beside the fire, so that he might throw Saint Patrick into it when he should come as far as it. But as Saint Patrick knew the strength of the fire beforehand he lifted a stone in his hand, signed the sign of the cross on the stone, and flung the stone so as to throw it into the middle of the flames, and on the moment the fire went down to the lowest depths of the ground, in such a way that the hole is there yet to be seen, from that day to this, and it is called Poll na Sean-tuine, the Hole of the Old Fire, and when the tide fills, the water comes into the bottom of the hole, and it would draw “deaf cows out of woods”—the noise that comes out of the hole when the tide is coming in.

  It was well, company of the world. When Crom Dubh saw that the fire had departed out of sight, and that the dogs had failed him and given him no help (a thing they had never done before), he himself and Téideach struck out like a blast of March wind until they reached the house, and Saint Patrick came after them. They had not far to go, for the fire was near the house. When Saint Patrick approached it he began to talk aloud with Crom Dubh, and he did his best to change him to a good state of grace, but it failed him to put the seal of Christ on his forehead, for he would not give any ear to Saint Patrick’s words.