by Steve Lally
Well poor Johnny made his way down the hall to the room and he was bewildered at how big the house was inside, for outside it was nothing more than a tiny hovel. Johnny opened the door to the room and was surprised to find it to be a fine big room with a very large and comfortable bed in it. Well he lay down and rested his weary bones on the soft feathered mattress. Now he was not long in the bed when he heard a loud knock on the front door coming up the hallway. He sat up and could hear the old woman say, ‘Speak easy, for there is a man down in the room and he is trying to get a bit of rest.’ Johnny was terrified, for he knew she was talking to the terrible sheep-stealers and he knew such men would not be happy to think that there was a stranger in the house who knew of their dealings and would make sure he would not tell anyone of their existence.
Well Johnny’s fears were confirmed for a gruff male voice replied to the old woman, ‘He won’t be long in it!’ and Johnny heard the sharpening of a knife. He jumped up from the bed and out of the open window. He was only out the window when three men came down to the room. When they saw him, they were hot on his trail as they bounded out the window like wild dogs after him. As he ran for his life, Johnny eventually came to a big river. He got in under the banks and when the men reached the river they searched up and down, poking the riverbanks with knives and sticks and whooping and howling like wolves.
Then Johnny heard one of them speak. ‘Hey, didn’t I tell you, the thief is away with the flood.’
Johnny stayed under the riverbank for two long hours when out came a wee man about 2 feet high on the bank opposite. He looked at Johnny with great puzzlement and called out, ‘Well now, what happened you?’
‘I have been out all night and what a terrible night it has been, I was nearly murdered!’ cried out Johnny. Then the moonlight shone on the river, revealing a footstick, which is a makeshift bridge made from a log thrown across the river. The wee man crossed the footstick to where Johnny was and took him back over to his side. He asked Johnny if he was hungry and Johnny replied that he was starving and the wee man produced a loaf of wheaten bread and a jug of fresh buttermilk, of which Johhny was very grateful for and he consumed them with great haste and appreciation. The food made him feel powerful, giving him the strength of two men. The wee man then produced a whistle, which he blew with great ferocity, and as soon as he did, two magnificent horses (the likes of which he had never seen in all his years as a Dealin’ Man) wearing fine saddles and bridles appeared out of nowhere. The wee man mounted one of these beasts and told Johnny to get on the other, which he did. ‘Watch yourself now!’ said the wee man, ‘for we have very rough and dangerous roads before us.’
Well the horses galloped like the wind for a couple of hours until Johnny found himself in the Bog of Allen. The atmosphere was strange and haunting; although he knew that the horses were walking on the soft peat of the bog, the sound of their hooves was one of clattering as though they were trotting along a hard and stony road, and above his head flew flocks of wild geese in their thousands; the sky was black with them like swarms of giant midges.
It seemed like an awful long time that they trotted and galloped through the haunted bog, but eventually they came out of it and Johnny saw before him a mighty plain covered in thick snow. But before he had a chance to admire this beautiful sight before him, he found himself galloping across a wide and magnificent lough. The horses galloped across it as if it were a broad highway. When they got across the lough they soon reached a dark and mysterious underground tunnel. They entered the tunnel like they were entering the mouth of a giant worm; it twisted and turned down deep into the earth. The riders were in total darkness the whole time – you could not have seen as far as the end your nose. They trotted along in silence and darkness for a very long time indeed until they saw a light in the distance.
Now Johnny and the wee man arrived at a great gated entrance that was adorned with burning lamps. The gates were huge and made from a dark wood decorated with impressive carvings. Then all a sudden the gates opened before them and the two men trotted inside. They were greeted by two rows with over a million men all about 2 feet tall, dressed in the richest of finery. These strange men took them into the grandest hall that Johnny had ever seen; it was massive, like someone had put a roof on the world and decorated it with all the jewels of nature. In this magical hall there were tables covered in every type of food and drink that you could think of and quite a few that went beyond the imagination.
Johnny was treated like royalty; he was told to take a seat and make himself comfortable and eat and drink as much as he liked. He was also told to take his time and enjoy the feast, ‘for the man who made time, made plenty of it!’ Forty fiddlers appeared out of nowhere and they started playing mighty jigs and reels, there was wild dancing and singing in the great hall. Then the wee man, whom Johnny had travelled with, put up his hand and all the dancing and music stopped right then and there.
He pointed at poor Johnny, who was quite caught off guard as only a second ago he was dancing and singing to his heart’s content. The wee man then shouted in a loud and shrill voice, ‘Look now! There is the man who needs to take a rest!’ With that Johnny was taken away politely by a group of wee men, who were very strong considering their small stature. He was taken to lovely bedroom, which was a great relief to Johnny for he was sure he was going to be thrown into a dungeon or some class of deep, dark hole in the ground.
There was a fire burning in a big ornate fireplace in this room, and the fuel was neither turf, wood nor coal – Johnny could not tell what it was at all, but there was a mighty heat from it that warmed the whole room like toast and as soon as Johnny hit the bed he was fast asleep like a wee baby.
When Johnny awoke, daylight was streaming in like a rainbow through beautiful stained-glass windows that adorned the great walls of the picture-perfect room. He sat up in the giant four-poster bed and he saw before him a huge wooden table again laden with fabulous food and drink of every kind. He got himself dressed and was about to sit down to his majestic breakfast when, all of a sudden, the great door of his room opened and the wee man arrived, all smiles and ‘Good mornings!’ He then says to Johnny, ‘You will not get away until you have seen all about this place.’ So after Johnny had eaten and drank his fill, the wee man took him on a grand tour. It looked like a palace and covered as much as 2 if not 3 acres of land. Johnny had never seen the likes of it in all his days; it was truly breathtaking and beautiful beyond description.
Well it was time for Johnny to go home and he thanked his wee friend ever so much for his kindness, hospitality and saving him from the terrible sheep-stealers. He wanted to show his gratitude by offering the wee man whatever money he had. But the wee man had no interest in such things as money, and he said to Johnny, ‘If you stand in need of anything, I will give you what will keep you comfortable all your life.’ Johnny said that this was far too much but the wee man waved his hand at Johnny and went away for a bit and then returned with a bag full of sovereigns and gave them to Johnny. He then gave Johnny a beautiful horse with a saddle and bridle and told him to mount the beast. ‘Don’t worry,’ said the wee man, ‘this horse will leave you right at your destination.’ Johnny asked the wee man why he was so kind to him and the wee man replied, ‘’Tis a rare thing when your kind respect us enough to trust you and ’tis an even rarer thing that your kind don’t help themselves to our gold without permission. You have proved yourself a trustworthy and decent fellow Johnny McKenna.’ With that the wee man patted the horse and it bolted off like a bullet. They flew across the land like the wind, clearing every ditch, hedge and bog hole like it was not there at all. The first place they came to was Shane Faddley’s Carrick, where the horse rested for a wee bit and then they were off again. The horse then crossed through Derrkinighbeg and Johnny could see neither ditch nor hedge till he landed at the foot of his own garden.
When his feet touched the ground, the horse disappeared and he walked to his front door, both pleased and honoured
that he had befriended none other than the King of the Fairies!
Co. Tyrone: From the Irish Tír Eoghain, meaning ‘Land of Eoghan’, after Eógan mac Néill, first king of Tyrone and son of Niall of the Nine Hostages. William Carleton (1794–1869), the famous novelist and folklorist, was born in Clogher, Co. Tyrone; his work has contributed greatly to the world of Irish folk and fairy lore. There are lots of fairy forts in Co. Tyrone; one in particular is on the Loughmacroroy Road: it is a beautiful wedge cairn with three roof stones still in place. In the centre of this cairn there is a beautiful fairy tree. William Forbes (W.F.) Marshall, the poet and Presbyterian Minister (1888–1959), was born in Sixmilecross, Co. Tyrone. He was known as ‘The Bard of Tyrone’ and he wrote some beautiful fairy poetry based on his native county, most notably ‘The Fairy Hill’, which stands majestically just outside his birthplace.
JOSEPH MCPHERSON AND THE FAIRIES (CO. TYRONE)
This is another story given to us by the Co. Down storyteller Doreen McBride. She herself was given the story by Dr Mary Wrack of Washington DC University. Dr Wrack came across this tale while she was in Ireland conducting research for a book about the Irish diet.
Joseph McPherson lived in the townland of Derryork, near Drumbane Fort in Co. Tyrone. He was a farmer who, like many farmers in those far-off times, supplemented his income by working as a weaver. This was long before industrialisation, when weavers had looms in their homes so they could make linen after doing a hard day’s work around their farms.
Joseph became very upset because every night fairies who lived in the nearby fort came into his house and annoyed him by playing around his loom. They refused to go away and leave him alone. One night, in 1804, the fairies invited Joseph to visit their fort and join them for dinner. He was frightened and didn’t want to go but they were insistent and carried him off against his will. Joseph was treated like royalty inside the fairy fort. He was given all sorts of delicious things to eat and drink before spending the rest of the night enjoying music and mirth. When the entertainment ended, the fairies took him out of their fort, away up high into the air. He was frightened and confused because he’d no idea where he was. He turned to the fairies and asked, ‘Are you taking me up into Heaven to the Temple of God?’
Fairies don’t like being asked about God because they aren’t sure if he is going to grant them eternal life or not. Annoyed by Joseph’s question, they dropped him on top of a lime heap beside the fairy thorn on his farm. He was in a terrible state when he managed to stagger back into his house and told his wife and family all that had happened, but he had one consoling thought: perhaps he’d annoyed the fairies to such an extent by mentioning God that they’d leave him alone in future.
That was not to be. Next evening, after he had finished his farm work and started weaving, he found himself surrounded by what seemed like thousands of fairies. The room was so crowded he could hardly move. He was in such a state of desperation he went and asked his clergyman to please come and get the fairies out of his house. The clergyman found Joseph surrounded by fairies. He told Joseph there are two things that frighten fairies: the Bible and iron. He told Joseph to hold his Bible in his right hand and a penknife in his left and to accompany him reading a passage from the Bible aloud. To everyone’s great astonishment, Joseph was suddenly whisked out of the door as he read. At first he was bewildered because he didn’t know what had happened. Then he remembered that iron may be used as protection against fairies, so he took his knife out of his pocket and formed circular patterns by passing it quickly around his body with the blade pointing outwards. After a few minutes he heard the fairies chattering and stood absolutely still, clutching his knife in one hand and his Bible in the other. He listened carefully and heard the fairies saying they couldn’t possibly take him to dinner while he held a knife and the Bible. Joseph breathed a sigh of relief. He thought the fairies would go away for good, but it was not to be. They bothered him every night. They were such a nuisance that he eventually made a bargain with them: he promised to give them his firstborn child if they went away and left him alone. Shortly after that Joseph’s wife had a baby boy. The child lived for two years before it was killed in an accident. Poor Joseph was stricken with grief and guilt. He blamed himself for his son’s death because he’d promised his firstborn to the fairies. He became terribly depressed and thought he’d never find peace or be successful in Ireland. When he’d buried his son, he decided the best thing he could do was emigrate to America.
He sold all his possessions. He was sure the fairies would leave him alone and get on with their business around Drumbane Fort.
It was not to be. Shortly after he arrived in America, he wrote home saying he’d enjoyed a pleasant peaceful voyage but the moment he arrived in America he found that fairies from Drumbane Fort had crossed the Atlantic Ocean with him.
I would like to give you a happy ending to this story but as the folklore historian Simon Young says: ‘Irish fairy stories rarely end well…’
2
THE PROVINCE OF LEINSTER
Co. Carlow: From the Irish Ceatharlach, meaning ’four lakes’. The actual settlement of Co. Carlow is thousands of years old and predates any written Irish history. It was the capital of Ireland in the fourteenth century. Co. Carlow is home to the ancient Browneshill Dolmen, an ancient tomb, which was built between 4000 and 3000 BC. Outside Ballymurphy in Co. Carlow, on top of a remote hill, you will find Rathgeran, which means fort of the rowan trees (rowan trees are said to belong to the fairy folk). The rocks that surround the fort are decorated with spiralling Celtic circles, similar to the carvings outside New Grange in Co. Meath. The last wolf in Ireland was hunted down and killed in Mount Leinster for attacking sheep in 1786. Co. Carlow is also the home of the ancient Celtic King Labhraidh Loingseach, who was believed to have horse’s ears.
THE CRYING LADY (CO. CARLOW)
Descriptions of the banshee can be hugely different, and she is called many different things depending on where you are in Ireland and who you are talking to. In some parts of Ireland the banshee is called the Bough or the Boheenka. Others refer to her as the fairy woman (Bean Sídhe), the death messenger, the white lady of sorrow, the woman of peace, and the keening woman.
Some see her as an old hag with flowing white hair and torn clothes, while others see her as a beautiful young woman dressed in a flowing white dress. Don’t be fooled if you happen to come across the young lady as opposed to the old lady – run just as fast. Neither sighting ends well.
The banshee can be heard without being seen, but when someone is unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her she is usually seen combing her long flowing hair.
Some believe she is directly related to the ‘keening women’. Keening is a traditional form of vocal lament for the dead and keening women were hired to cry at wakes and funerals. They would make high-pitched and mournful sounds beside the person laid out. This sound is not unlike the sound we associate with the banshee cry. Keening women were not only responsible for crying beside the corpse but in a lot of cases they helped prepare the body, washing and dressing the deceased and also combing their hair – hence the comb. It is believed in some parts of Ireland that the banshee was once a keening woman who wasn’t good at her job and she became a banshee as a means of punishment. In some stories it is said that if you touch her comb you will die. If you see a comb on the ground it is thought to be bad luck to pick it up.
Traditionally the banshee was believed to follow the ancient Gaelic families of Ireland, those being names with ‘O’ or ‘Mac’. There are accounts of some Norman or Norse descendants and also some families ‘who came with Cromwell’ having their own banshee.
The story we found from Co. Carlow tells a harrowing tale of a banshee. We found this story in the Dúchas archive at University College Dublin. It was collected by a student from Garryhill National School, Co. Carlow, called Patrick Smethers. The story was told to him by John O’Hara from Straduff.
Now everybody is Ireland
knows that the banshee is supposed to follow certain families. She appears when a member of that family is going to die. She is seen by people at night sitting in a tree by the roadside combing her hair. It is said that if she throws the comb at someone and hits them with it then they will die soon afterwards. On the night that the person dies she can be heard keening for miles around.
The banshee is supposed to follow a certain family named Bradley, who live in a place named Clonee. One night a man named John O’Hara was coming home to Straduff from Myshall. He had to pass by Clonee on his way home. When he was coming near Bradley’s house he saw the banshee in a tree combing her hair. He said ‘Good night’ but she would not speak. He said ‘Good night’ again but she would not answer. At last he said, ‘Whoever you are I will make you speak,’ and he went home for his dog. When he returned the dog would not go near the banshee. So he went home with the dog, got his gun, and loaded it with a bent sixpence. He returned yet again but the banshee was gone.
Less than a week later one of the Bradleys died and that night the keening of the banshee could be heard all over the countryside. People thought that something terrible would surely happen to John O’Hara, but nothing did. He is still ‘hale and hearty’ and it is some years now since he heard the banshee.
On the Carlow–Kildare border is Duckett’s Grove. It is located in Rainstown. This mansion was built between 1818 and 1850 and was home to the Duckett family.
As you drive up to the entrance you will see the family crest and motto. It reads ‘Let us be judged by our actions’. Sadly, in 1933 the house was burned down and the cause is unknown.