Monaghan Folk Tales

by Lally, Steve;

  Then Rowler came in, like a day-star appeared

  He made a long speech and the sojers all cheered

  Says he, ‘Beat well the Spaniards, and do the neat thing

  And then boys, stand up for your country and king.’

  Derry down down down, Derry down.

  Then Mr. Murphy Alonzo somehow went to jail;

  He got out by a back door without giving bail.

  While Rowler was jumping o’er bridges and greens,

  He was shot by some blackguard behind the big screens

  Derry down down down, Derry down.

  Then Rowler came forward, and with him a child,

  Looking all for the world like a man that was wild.

  ‘Here’s your gossoon, dear Cora, it’s my own blood that’s spilt

  In defence of your child, blood an’ hounds, I’m kilt.’

  Derry down down down, Derry down.

  Then Alonzo and Pizzaro had a terrible fight;

  Pizzaro got killed, that seemed perfectly right

  For the audience came down with a shower of applause.

  They were all enlisted in the Peruvian’s cause.

  Derry down down down, Derry down.

  Then Alonzo came forward and handsomely bowed

  Saying: Ladies and gentlemen, meaning the crowd

  By your kind permission, to-morrow, then

  We’ll murder Pizzaro all over again.

  Derry down down down, Derry down.

  26

  FAIRY STORIES

  Whilst travelling around Co. Monaghan, I met many people and these people told me all sorts of wonderful stories about the fairy folk and what they get up to. As a storyteller, I am fascinated by the Good Folk, which they are better known as in Ireland. So it was a real joy to be given so many of their tales. I was amazed at the sheer wealth and quality of fairy stories that I came across and I am delighted to be able to include them in this collection of folk tales.

  A HILL IN SHEETRIM

  In a part of Monaghan known as Mullyerra, there lived a man named James McAree. Now, James had a cow that he was very proud of and every day he would go and milk the cow. But then something very strange happened. Well, one day like any other, he went to perform his milking duties and, lo and behold, the cow was already milked and the pail was full to the brim.

  So early one evening, auld Mrs McAree went out early to get the cow and was shocked to see two wee men milking the cow. When she got closer, she realised they were fairy folk, those funny-looking craturs with long pointy noses and ears to boot, no more than a couple of feet tall.

  But as soon as they saw her, they ran as fast as the wind, up the next hill into Sheetrim.

  No one knows if these fairies were ever seen again but there were sightings of members of the Good Folk in Co. Monaghan and here are a few that were recorded.

  SKEVERAN FORT

  There was an auld woman called Mary Martin, who, for some strange reason, decided to spend one night alone in Skeveran Fort, near Smithsborough. When she awoke, she saw a mare and a foal standing beside her and at their feet was a pile of the most beautiful rosy apples that you have ever seen.

  The horses nudged the apples, as if to encourage the woman to take them. Well, she was very hungry and wasted no time collecting them into her apron. As soon as she looked up, the horses were gone, with not a sign nor a trace of them to be seen, and so she decided to head home.

  On her way back, she met another woman on the road and kindly offered her a few of the lovely apples, telling her the strange tale of how she had acquired them. But as soon as she went to give the other woman some of the strange fruit, she was shocked to see that her apron was full of ‘maothlach’, or horse manure.

  It was said that you should never try to give away a fairy gift …

  SÍ GAOITHE

  One night, there was a man coming home from a ceilidh in Knockatallon. Before he had gone far, he found himself amongst a mighty gathering of people. Now, what was even more peculiar about all of this was the fact that they all knew his name and addressed him every time they spoke to him.

  Well now, they took him to a fine big castle and there they gave him all sorts of magnificent food and drink. But the man refused to eat or drink any of it for he knew that he was in the company of the fairy folk, and his mother had warned him when he was a child never to partake of any food or drink offered to you by the fairy folk, for if you did you would be under their spell and would remain their slave for all eternity.

  So then they took him to a place called Ervy in Co. Fermanagh and no one knows what went on there. He was found the next morning lying in the glen, but there was no sign of the fairies.

  When the people went to see if the man was all right and what he was doing there, he disappeared right in front of their eyes and found himself safe and sound at home again.

  Well, everything was fine until exactly a year later, when the same man was on his way home from Roslea.

  Just as he was about to reach his house, he heard and felt the ‘sí gaoithe’, or the fairy wind, rising up about him. And then the inevitable happened: he was whipped up by the wind and was about to be whisked off by the fairies again when he called out with all his might. Luckily for him, some of his neighbours were close by and saw to their horror and bewilderment what was happening to their friend.

  They all ran after him and managed to overtake him at Drummons, where they caught him and threw him into a bog hole. The fairy wind shrieked and moaned as it moved off into the distance. After that, the man was never bothered by the fairies again and he always made sure to keep some sort of iron or steel on his person to protect himself from their enchantments, because the fairies do not like iron or steel. Apparently a little steel crucifix did the job nicely.

  THE CHANGELING OF DRUMCOO

  There was once a husband and wife, called the Heaghneys, who lived in the townland of Drumcoo (Foster) in Co. Monaghan.

  Now, they had always wanted a child and they had tried for a long time to have one until eventually they were blessed with a wee child of their own.

  In those days, a child was always kept in a cradle and as a precaution an iron tongs was placed above the cradle to protect the child from the fairies. The fairy folk do not like iron or steel, which render their enchantments powerless.

  Well, one day Mrs Heaghney was outside milking the cow, but hadn’t she forgotten to put the tongs across the cradle. When she went back inside the house, to her horror she saw that there was a strange, monstrous-looking creature in the cradle, snarling up at her. She knew fine rightly that this was not her own wee child but a changeling left behind by the fairies.

  She went and got her husband and both of them were very upset and they did not know what to do. They were told that there was a wee man who lived in the townland of Knocknagrave in the parish of Trough, Co. Monagahan, who had experience of getting stolen children back from the fairies. So they went to see him and he told them what to do. Well, they were not too happy with what they heard and were a bit reluctant at first but they were told that if they did not get rid of the changeling, life would be very difficult for them.

  So they went home and did as they were told: they built a great big turf fire in the fireplace and put the cradle with the changeling in it right next the fire itself. As the fire grew hotter and hotter, it became too hot to even be in the wee house, so they went outside. Now, as they stood outside they could hear the cries of the child inside the house. Poor Mrs Heaghney wanted to relent and go inside for the child, but Mr Heaghney told her not to and that she must remember that it was not their child in there but a changeling.

  Well, after a while, they heard a terrible scream and a loud bang and above them they saw the changeling fly out the chimney and disappear into the sky.

  They ran back inside the house and there they found their own child, safe and well. They took it outside of the house as it was still ferociously hot and they swore that they would never leave the wee one
alone again without safeguarding it from the fairy folk.

  INISKEEN’S ON FIRE

  This wee story about ‘a changeling’ was originally told by a lady called Ellen Cutler from Co. Fermanagh and was collected by the folklorist Henry Glassie in his book Irish Folk Tales (1985).

  Iniskeen means ‘peaceful island’. It is a small village and parish in south Monaghan, close to the Co. Louth and south Armagh borders. It is probably most famous for being the home of the great poet and writer Patrick Kavanagh, who is buried at Iniskeen cemetery. But according to this wee tale, Inniskeen was at one time the home of the wee folk or the fairies … This story is written as it was collected.

  There was a woman and she had a wee baby boy in a cradle. In them days, there was no such thing as a pram. So, this boy came in and the child was taken out of the cradle and this ‘funny boy’ got into it. The child was never seen and the funny boy was in the cradle all the time.

  And a man come in, a neighbour man come in, and he, the boy in the cradle, says, ‘Gimme a light for me pipe!’ ‘Gimme a coal there outta the fire.’

  So the boyo got the coal and he smoked.

  And then there was another man going to a blacksmith. He was going to get a loy fixed. (A loy was an early Irish spade with a long heavy handle made from the ash plant, a narrow steel plate on the face and a single footrest. The word loy comes from the Irish word ‘láí’, which means spade. It was used for manual ploughing prior to and during the Great Famine of Ireland, 1845–1852.) It wasn’t a spade now; it was a loy. So, the man was going away to get the loy fixed with the blacksmith. He looked into the cradle and he knew that it was no child.

  He knew it was no baby. And the boy in the cradle put up his head and says, ‘Would you give me a light for me pipe!’ So the man that went in, he went out again onto the street, and he let a big curse out of him: ‘Inniskeen’s on fire! Inniskeen’s on fire! Inniskeen’s on fire!’

  So the boyo got up and hopped out of the cradle and was away and he was never seen again.

  He was frightened, you see, when he heard about the fire in Inniskeen.

  That’s where they lived, you see. I often heard me husband telling it. The man says, ‘Inniskeen’s on fire!’, so he disappeared. I often heard him telling me that.

  BOULD BILLIE MCKENNA AND THE FAIRY FOLK

  I am sure most of us know, or at least knew, someone who seemed to know a lot about the fairies and their carry-on about the place. Well, one of these characters was a fella called Billie McKenna from the town of Monaghan. He seemed to have a real affinity with the wee folk and a huge respect for them. The following is the story of one of his adventures with the wee folk.

  One bright moonlit night, Billie McKenna was returning home at a steady and easy pace. It was a beautiful night and Billie was enjoying the walk, charmed by the whistling wind and the silvery glow from the moon that made everything about him shimmer like the surface of a still lake.

  But this was all to change when he came to Davidson’s meadow. He had passed this meadow many times before and it was never the sort of thing that really caught his attention, but on this night, he was stopped in his tracks for the meadow was full of men on horseback, all of them very well dressed and smaller than normal men.

  One of them trotted over to poor Billie, who was quite frightened at this stage, and the funny wee cratur looked down at Billie from his magnificent black steed and asked if he would like to go for a ride with them. What really put the fear into Billie was the fact that the wee man knew his full name and addressed him as if he had been expecting him.

  Well, Billie was no fool and he knew straight away that he was in the company of the good folk and to be rude or impolite to them on a moonlit night such as this would be very foolish – indeed, even fatal. So, he told the wee man that he would love to go for a ride with them, but it was very late in the night and unfortunately he had no horse anyway.

  The wee man pointed down at a big clump of ragweed growing in the ditch beside where Billie stood.

  ‘Pull that ragweed growing beside you in the ditch,’ commanded the wee man.

  Well, Billie did as he was told and pulled the ragweed from the ditch, and as soon as he did he found himself straddled across the back of a beautiful white calf.

  ‘Hi for Navan Fort!’ cried out the wee man on the black horse.

  Now, Navan Fort, for anyone who may not know, is an ancient Celtic fort in Co. Armagh which was owned by Conchobar Mac Nessa, the High King of Ulster.

  Well now, Billie just went along with what the men did and cried out himself, ‘Hi! For Navan Fort!’

  So off they went to Navan Fort in County Armagh, Billie and the troop of fairy horsemen galloping across hills, ditches, lakes, rivers and orchards at speeds that would make your head spin. Billie held on to the silk reins that hung from a golden bit in the calf’s mouth. The wee animal flew through the air and Billie was never so excited in all his life, watching the moonlit countryside fly past below him and seeing the world in a way that he had never thought possible.

  Billie was totally ecstatic and he cried out, ‘Holy God, this is powerful altogether!’

  At that point, the leader rode up beside him and looked at him with a very angry expression indeed. Billie could not understand what he had done wrong at all.

  Then the leader said to him in a loud and agitated voice, ‘Don’t mention God’s name in any of our dealings this night!’

  ‘All right, your honour,’ replied Billie apologetically.

  The fairy man nodded his head and said, ‘Let that be the end of it and hi for Navan Fort!’

  So on they galloped and cleared every hedge, ditch and river they came across. Billie was very pleased with his wee calf and impressed by how well it jumped and flew across the land.

  He shouted out with great admiration for his steed, ‘That I never be damned but you are a well-leaped calf!’

  The going was furious and Billie was afraid he might fall off, so he leant into the beast as it flew along like a beautiful bird.

  As they rode along, the cold wind and the chilling air made Billie sneeze.

  He blurted out, ‘God bless me!’

  With that, the fairy leader came up alongside Billie. He had a rush in his hand, which he used to whip the calf on its rump, making it give a big buck-leap and the next thing Billie found himself clinging to a bunch of rushes on the edge of a bog hole in Killyneill bog, 4 miles from Carickavon.

  Well, Billie told that story every time anyone ever asked why he never owned or rode a horse.

  TALES OF JOHNNY MCKENNA AND

  THE GOOD FOLK

  Now, I came across quite a few stories about a Johnny McKenna, but there are so many McKennas in Monaghan that it could be the same man in all the stories or a different man with the same name each time.

  Anyway, here we go. I hope you enjoy these stories of Johnny McKenna and the fairies.

  In the townland of Drumgaghan in Co. Monaghan, there once lived a man called Johnny McKenna, who was a great fiddler. One winter’s night at around eight o’clock, he was sitting comfortably by the fire in his own house, when all of a sudden there was a knock at the door. Now, ’twas strange as the knock came from quite low down on the door, like it was a small child knocking. Johnny thought this was odd and wondered what on earth a wee child was doing out at this time on a dark, cold winter night and what on earth the child was doing knocking on his door.

  Well, Johnny got up and answered the door and to his great surprise he saw a wee man standing there. Now, Johnny had never seen this wee man before in his life, but the wee man knew Johnny.

  ‘Hello John!’ says the wee man, with all the familiarity of a close friend. ‘I hear that you’re a great fiddler, John.’

  Johnny replied, ‘Well, I’m not too bad, I suppose.’

  With that, the wee man got all excited and piped up, ‘Well, can ya play me a few tunes then, John?’

  Johnny was very taken aback by all of this for it was most
peculiar and very strange indeed, but Johnny was no fool and he knew fine rightly that the wee man was not flesh and blood like you and I. He knew that this wee cratur was one of the Good Folk, or the fairy folk, and he knew it was very wise to be as pleasant with them as possible for it always paid off to be polite to them, especially if they turn up unannounced at night!

  So Johnny took down his fiddle and he began to play late into the night and the wee man danced around the place, laughing and play-acting like a wee boy. Then, at the stroke of midnight, the wee man stopped dancing and announced in a loud voice, ‘I must go now! It’s getting late, Johnny. Can you leave your hat on the floor and please don’t look out the door after me when I leave? Just close the door once I am gone.’

  Well, Johnny opened the door and let him away into the night. Some folk say that Johnny peeped out after him and he saw nothing at all and when he lifted his hat there was a piece of clay under it and others say that Johnny did exactly as he was told and closed the door after the wee man and when he looked under the hat he found a wee pile of gold coins.

  THE FAIRY PIPE

  Now, there was a Johnny McKenna who lived in the townland of Killybrone in Clara, Co. Monaghan and he was out ploughing his field one fine spring day. It was getting towards evening and his two horses were starting to get very tired indeed. So he thought it was time to give himself and his two beasts of burden a well-deserved rest. He sat down on a large flat stone at the top of the field and he proceeded to take out his pipe and light it up. He loved a wee ‘drag’ or ‘draw’ on his pipe every now and again. Sure, it was altogether very common at the time for the country farmers to smoke a pipe.

  Now, when he had rested himself and his horses and satisfied himself with a few relaxing puffs on his pipe, he placed the pipe on the large flat stone and he continued with his ploughing until it got dark and it was really time to call it a day. Well, Johnny was as good a man as he was hard-working and he took the horses home and made sure they were well fed and watered. He groomed them and gave them fresh bedding. When he was finished with the horses, he washed his hands in the wee stream in front of the house and went inside to have his supper. When he had finished eating, he reached into his pocket to get his pipe, but it was ‘gone’. Well, he remembered leaving it on the big flat stone at the top of the field, so off he went to get it back. But when he got there, it was nowhere to be seen at all.