BARE BONES - VOLUME 8 — A Bit O' the Irish

A BIT O' THE IRISH!
(Irish Stories and Lore)
(Click on the underlined title to go to the story)

A. List of Short Irish Stories and Jokes
(#1 through #6 should be approached with care)
A1) The Irish Engineer - generic
A2) The Little Irish Lad - generic
A3) Irish Joke - generic
A4) Irish Shopping - generic
A5) Irish Hole Diggers - generic
A6) Paddy the Kerryman Dies - generic
A7) The Fisherman and the Merman - generic
A8) The Irish Surgeon - generic
A9) Daniel O'Connell and the Trickster (Conrad Bladey)
A10) The Cat and the Dog (Conrad Bladey)
A11) The Leprechaun and the Red Scarf (Richard Martin)
A12) The Leprechaun's Gold (Dale Pepin)
A13) Muldoon's Dog (Wayfarer Tomm)
A14) You've Been Out Drinking Again
A15) I've Lost Me Luggage
A16) Water to Wine
A17) The Reunion
A18) The Brothel
A19) Lost at Sea
A20) Irish Wedding Tale
A21) The Wedding Nighty
A22) The Tap Dancer
A23) An Irish Love Story
A24) Five short and funny Irish stories
A25) A Fly in My Pint
A26) The Abusive Parrot
A27) An Irish Confession
A28) An Irish Story


B. List of Longer Irish Stories
B1) Janey Mary by James Plunkett
B2) The Leprehaun by Lady Wilde
B3) The Doctor and the Fairy Princess by Lady Wilde
B4) Queen Maeve by Lady Wilde
B5) The Fairy Child as retold by Patrick Kennedy
B6) Finn Macumhail - an Irish myth/legend
B7) The Story of Mac Datho's Pig - a famous Irish saga
B8) Fergus O’Lorcain, The Irish Lad Who Had No Story - a tale from Ireland adapted by Chuck Larkin
B9) Bridget - a tale from Ireland adapted by Chuck Larkin
B10) Mary Culhaine - a tale from Ireland adapted by Chuck Larkin
B11) The Hunt - an Irish Celtic tale about Fianna Warriors adapted by Chuck Larkin
B12) Connla and the Fairy Maiden - a Celtic fairy tale adapted by Joseph Jacobs
B13) The Sea Maiden - a Celtic fairy tale adapted by Joseph Jacobs
B14) Mongan's Frenzy - an Irish myth
B15) Maudie McKenzie - an Irish story adapted by Linda Spitzer
B16) The Fate of the Children of Lir - a well-known Irish myth
B17) Irish Myths and Legends - tales from the three cycles and other traditions
B18) Gods and Fighting Men - by Lady Augusta Gregory
B19) Book One: Brigit, the Mary of the Gael - a series of ancient folk tales about a woman from Connacht


C. Miscellaneous Information about Ireland and the Irish
C1) Richard Marsh's website - Irish Myths, Legends, Folk Tales and International Stories
C2) A Beginner's Guide to Irish Gaelic Pronunciation
C3) The Sounds of Irish with links to other websites
C4) Sound files of common expressions - just the thing to add to St. Patrick's Day stories.
C5) Conrad Bladey's Irish Studies Pages
C6) CELT: Corpus of Electronic Texts
C7) Internet Sacred Text Archive
C8) The Irish Potate Famine Page
C9) The Mudcat Cafe: Origins: Fields of Athenry
C10) Omniglot: A Guide to Written Language (writing systems and links)
C11) Irish Language Information - a very comprehensive site for all things Irish
C12) The Irish-American Fiction Bookshelf
C13) Irish Myths, Legends and Folktales form the Ireland List (great music!)
C14) Irish Language Information and Resources
C15) The Trooping Fairies - from Fairy and Folk Tales, edited by W.B. Yeats
C16) Irish Stories - dozens of stories, including all the cycles
C17) The Ireland List - Irish Legends - Legends, Myths, and Folktales


D. Irish Blessings, Sayings, Poems and Expressions
D1) May the road rise to meet you...
D2) May those who love us love us...
D3) Walls for the wind...
D4) And may you be in heaven...
D5) May God be with you and bless you...
D6) May the rain fall softly on you...
D7) May the Irish hills caress you...
D8) May your neighbors respect you...
D9) Always remember to forget...
D10) May you always have work for your hands to do...
D11) May you live as long as you want...
D12) May you live to be a hundred years...
D13) May there be a generation of children...
D14) May God grant you many years to live...
D15) The Mouse on the Barroom Floor (a poem)
D16) Irish Expressions


E. Irish Proverbs
23 proverbs numbered E1 through E23


Short Irish stories and Jokes:

A1) The Irish Engineer
Young man Murphy applied for an engineering position at an Irish firm based in Dublin. An American applied for the same job and both applicants having the same qualifications were asked to take a test by the department manager.

Upon completion of the test, both men only missed one of the questions. The manager went to Murphy and said, "Thank you for your interest, but we've decided to give the American the job."

Murphy asked, "And why would you be doing that? We both got nine questions correct. This being Ireland, and me being Irish I should get the job!"

The manager said, "We have made our decision not on the correct answers, but rather on the question that you missed."

Murphy then asked, "And just how would one incorrect answer be better than the other?"

The manager replied, "Simple, the American put down on question #5, 'I don't know.' You put down, 'Neither do I'."
•••••
This and many other humorous stories of all kinds at:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people51.htm
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A2) That Little Irish Lad (a little naughty)
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned.. I have been with a loose woman."  
The priest asks, "Is that you, little Tommy Shauhnessy?"
"Yes, Father, it is".                                                    
"And, who was the woman you were with?"
"Surely I can't be tellin' you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation."                
"Well. Tommy, I'm sure to find out sooner or later, so you may as well tell me now.                 
"Was it Brenda O'Malley?"
"I cannot say, Father.                                                   
"Was it Patricia Kelly?"                                                 
"I'll never tell."                                                       
"Was it Liz Shannon?"   
"I'm sorry Father, but I can't name her."
"Was it Cathy Morgan?"
"My lips are sealed Father."
"Was it Fiona McDonald, then?"
"Please Father, I cannot tell you."

The priest sighs in frustration. "You're a steadfast lad, Tommy Shaughnessy, and I admire that. But You've sinned, and you must atone for your ways. You cannot attend church mass for three months. Be off with you now."

Tommy walks back to his pew. His friend Sean slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?"
Tommy answers, "Three months vacation and five good leads."
•••••
This and many other humorous stories of all kinds at:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people144.htm
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A3) Irish Prayer
Murphy was staggering home with a pint of booze in his back pocket when he slipped and fell heavily. Struggling to his feet, he felt something wet running down his leg.

"Please Lord," he implored, "let it be blood!!"
•••••
This and many other humorous stories of all kinds at:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people40.htm
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A4) Irish Shopping
McQuillan walked into a bar and ordered martini after martini, each time removing the olives and placing them in a jar. When the jar was filled with olives and all the drinks consumed, the Irishman started to leave.

"S' cuse me", said a customer, who was puzzled over what McQuillan had done, "what was that all about?"

"Nothin', said the Irishman, "my wife just sent me out for a jar of olives!"
•••••
This and many other humorous stories of all kinds at:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people40.htm
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people.htm
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A5) Irish Hole Diggers
Two Irish men are going down the street, one digs a hole, the second fills it in. They carry on down the street and again one digs a hole and the second fills it in.

A passerby is bemused by this and goes over to the Irish men and asks them, "What on earth is going on?" One of the Irishman replies saying, "Our mate who plants the trees is off ill today."
•••••
Source for this and other short, funny stories:
http://www.office-humour.co.uk/item.cfm?itm=2430
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A6) Paddy the Kerryman Dies
Paddy the Kerryman died in a fire and was burnt pretty bad and the morgue needed someone to identify the body. So his two best friends, Seamus and Seanin (Also Kerrymen), were sent for. Seamus went in and the mortician pulled back the sheet. Seamus said "Yup, he's burnt pretty bad. Roll him over." So the mortician rolled him over and Seamus looked and said "Nope, it ain't Paddy."

The mortician thought that was rather strange and then he brought Seanin in to identify the body. Seanin took a look at him and said, "Yup he's burnt real bad, roll him over". The mortician rolled him over and Seanin looked down and said, "No, it ain't Paddy".

The mortician asked, "How can you tell?" Seanin said, "Well, Paddy had two assholes." "What, he had two assholes?" said the mortician. "Yup, everyone knew he had two assholes. Every time we went into town, folks would say, "Here comes Paddy with them two assholes...."
•••••
Source for this and other short, funny stories:
http://www.lifeisajoke.com/irish2_html.htm
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A7) The Fisherman and the Merman
Fisherman is walking down the beach with a large bag catching crabs.
A Merman pops his head up out of the water and asks the Fisherman to toss him a crab.
The Fisherman sees an opportunity here and asks the Merman what he will give him in return.
The Merman smiles and tells the Fisherman that for a crab he will tell him his fortune.
Fisherman tosses the Merman a crab and the Merman tells him that if he keeps both feet firmly planted on the ground he will never die from drowning.
•••••
Contributed by:
Marcia Gutiérrez
QuiltedTales1@aol.com
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A8) The Irish Surgeon
An Irish surgeon who had couched a cataract and restored the sight of a poor woman in Dublin, observed in her case what he deemed a phenomenon in optics; on which he called together his professional brethren, declaring himself unequal to the solution.

He stated to them that the sight of his patient was so perfectly restored, that she could see to thread the smallest needle, or to perform any other operation, which required particular accuracy of vision; but that when he presented her with a book, she was not capable of distinguishing one letter from another!
This very singular case excited the ingenuity of all the gentlemen present, and various solutions were offered, but none could command the general assent.

Doubt crowded on doubt, and the problem grew darker from every explanation, when at length, by a question put by the servant who attended, it was discovered that the woman never learned to read!
•••••
This and other funny doctor stories are at:
http://www.aardvarkarchie.com/jokes/medical/medical078.htm
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A9) Daniel O’ Connell and the Trickster as retold by Conrad Bladey
Story:
There was a man living at Carhan, near Caherciveen, in the time of Daniel O’ Connell. He was poor and he had a large family. One day he was selling two pigs - a white one and a black one - at Tralee  fair. A buyer asked him how much he wanted for the white one, along with the black one. The poor man thought, and no wonder, that the buyer wanted only the white pig; so he named the price. The buyer immediately marked both pigs and took from his pocket only that  which had been asked for the white one. “What do you mean?” asked the poor man. “You only inquired about the white pig” “That’s a lie!” said the buyer. “Didn't I ask you how much you wanted for the white one along with the black one?”

The poor man could do nothing but give him the two pigs for the price of one. He returned home and told his story to his wife and to all the neighbors. It wasn’t long till it spread all over the district, and everybody was sorry for the poor man. He told his story to Daniel O’Connell, who had great sympathy for him. “We’ll get our own back on that buyer later on,” said O’Connell. “Are you willing to cut off the lobe of your right ear?” “I  am ,” said he. O’Connell cut off the lobe of the man’s right ear, put it into an envelope, and took it home.  He asked the poor man to accompany him to Tralee next day to play a trick on the buyer. 

“He has a tobacco shop in Tralee,” said O’Connell; “and we’ll call into him. After a while, you must take out your pipe and take a whiff or two from it. I will then pass the remark that you don’t smoke very much, and you must  reply that you would smoke seven times as much, if you had the tobacco. I will then say that I’ll give you all the tobacco you want.” 

The following day, they both went to Tralee and went into the tobacco shop.  The poor man pulled out his pipe, reddened it, drew a few whiffs, and put it back into his pocket. 
“You don’t smoke very much,” said O’Connell to him. 
“I’d smoke seven times as much, if I had it,” said the poor man. 
“Well, I’ll give you plenty of tobacco,” said O’Connell.
He ordered the buyer to give the poor man as much tobacco as would reach from his toe to the lobe of his right ear and asked how much it would cost.
 
“Eight shillings” said the buyer. “That’s agreed” said O’Connell . The buyer then began to measure the length from the man’s toe to the lobe of his right ear, but when he reached the ear, he found that the lobe was missing.  He pretended nothing. “We have caught you!” said O’Connell. “That’s not the lobe of his right ear. It is back in Carhan, if you know where that place is.  So you must measure from his toe to Carhan!”

The buyer was dumbfounded. He could say nothing. The O’Connell ordered him to pay the man for the black pig, and he would not insist on the tobacco at all. The buyer paid  the money, and even something extra, and went off to his kitchen covered with shame. And no wonder!
•••••
This story and hundreds of other 5-minute Irish stories may be found at Conrad Bladey's website:
http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/%7Eer719/blackbx.html
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A10) The Cat and the Dog as retold by Conrad Bladey
Story:
Long ago the dog used to be out in the wet and the cold, while the cat remained inside near the fire. One day, when he was "drowned wet," the dog said to the cat, "You have a comfortable place, but you won't have it any longer. I'm going to find out whether I have to be outside every wet day, while you are inside."

The man of the house overheard the argument between the two and thought that it would be right to settle the matter. "Tomorrow," said he, "I will start a race between ye five miles from the house, and whichever of ye comes into the house first will have the right to stay inside from then on. The other can look after the place outside."

Next day, the two got themselves ready for the race. As they ran toward the house, the dog was a half-mile ahead of the cat. Then he met a beggar man. When the beggar man saw the dog running toward him with his mouth open, he thought he was running to bite him. He had a stick in his hand and he struck the dog as he ran by. The dog was hurt and started to bark at the beggar man and tried to bite him for satisfaction.

Meanwhile the cat ran toward the house, and she was licking herself near the fire and resting after the race when the dog arrived. "Now," said the cat when the dog ran in, "the race is won, and I have the inside of the house for ever more."
•••••
This story and hundreds of other 5-minute Irish stories may be found at Conrad Bladey's website:
http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/%7Eer719/blackbx.html
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A11) The Leprechaun and the Red Scarf - an Irish tale as retold by Richard Martin
Green fields, golden buttercups. And leprechauns – each with a pot of gold! Boy – red scarf – saw leprechaun, and caught him: “Take me to your pot of gold. Promise I’ll let you go if you do.” Middle of field – full of buttercups. “Here, under this buttercup, is my gold. Now let me go.” Boy needed a spade to dig down to gold. “If I let you go, will you promise not to take your gold away while I get spade?” “I promise.” Boy tied red scarf around buttercup to mark it. “If I let you go, will you promise not to take my scarf away while I get spade?” “I promise.” Boy let leprechaun go. Ran for spade. Returned to field full of buttercups. Each and every buttercup had a red scarf tied around it.
•••••
The bones of this story and many others may be found at Richard Martin's website:
http://www.tellatale.eu
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A12) The Leprechaun's Gold - a story for St. Patrick's Day as retold by Dale Pepin
[This is another version of The Leprechaun and the Red Scarf, #A11 above]
Story:
'TWAS a fine sunny day at harvest time when young Seamus O'Donnell, walking along the road, heard a tapping sound.  Peering over the hedge, he saw a tiny man in a little leather apron, mending a little shoe.
 
"Well, well, well!" said Seamus to himself.  "I truly never expected to meet a leprechaun.  Now that I have, I must not let this chance slip away.  For everyone knows that leprechauns keep a pot of gold hidden nearby.  All I have to do is to find it, and I am set for the rest of my life."
 
Greeting the leprechaun politely, Seamus asked about his health.  However, after a few minutes of idle conversation, Seamus became impatient.  He grabbed the leprechaun and demanded to know where the gold was hidden.
 
"All right!  All right!" cried the little man.  "It is near here.  I'll show you."
 
Together they set off across the fields as Seamus was careful never to take his eyes off the little man who was guiding him.  At last they came to a field of golden ragwort.
 
The leprechaun pointed to a large plant.
 
"The gold is under here," he said.  "All you have to do is to dig down and find it."
 
Now Seamus didn't have anything with him to use for digging, but he was not entirely stupid. He pulled of his red neckerchief and tied it to the plant so that he would recognize it again.

"Promise me," he said to the leprechaun, "that you will not untie that scarf."
 The little man promised faithfully.
 
Seamus dropped the leprechaun and ran home as fast as he could to fetch a shovel.  Within five minutes, he was back at the field.  But what a sight met his eyes!  Every single ragwort plant in the whole field -- and there were hundreds of them -- had a red neckerchief tied around it.
 
Slowly, young Seamus walked home with his shovel.  He didn't have his gold.  He didn't have the leprechaun.
 
And now, he didn't even have his neckerchief.
•••••
The story may be found at Story Socks, Dale Pepin's website at:
http://pages.zdnet.com/storysocks/library/id56.html
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A13) Muldoon's Dog (from Wayfarer Tomm)
Story:
Muldoon's dog died, Muldoon really did love that dog, so he went to see Father McNulty. He knew Father before he was a Father, when they had been friends back in the old country.

He said, "Mike (he always called father "Mike"), my dog died."
Father said, "What the hell are you bothering me with that for? I'm working on sermons and besides I'm Catholic and Catholics don't do dogs. Take your stupid dog down to the New Age place down the road. Maybe they do dogs."

So Muldoon said, ”Mike I know we don’t do dogs. I am a good Catholic I just wanted to know if you thought that $50,000 would be a large enough donation for the service.”

Father said ”Muldoon, you didn't tell me your dog was a Catholic.”

The morning of the service Muldoon came and said, "Mike, what if my dog is only playing dead and fooling me?”

Father said “What the hell are you bothering me for? I'm getting ready for the service, you do have the $50,000. I am a priest, not a vet, take your dog to the vet and the vet will run tests."

So Muldoon went to the vet to determine if the dog was really dead. The vet pulled on the dog's nose and the dog's tail and tickled the dog's belly. When the dog did not respond, the vet told Muldoon that the dog was dead and charged Muldoon $50.00

Muldoon went back to see Mike and said, “Mike how can I be absolutely sure. I would be sad if it woke up after it was buried.”

Father said, “What the hell are you bothering me for? I'm getting ready to go in to the service. Where is the $50,000? I am a priest, not a vet, go to a vet and have him run more tests."

Muldoon went back at the vet's demanding more tests to see if the dog was really dead. After the initial tests the vet got a kitten, which he had scratch the dog's nose and play with the dog's tail and scratch the dog's belly. The vet then told Muldoon that the dog was really dead and charged him $500.00.

When Muldoon questioned the price difference, the vet told him that it was because the second series included a CAT SCAN.
•••••
Contributed by
Wayfarer Tomm
SOS the Caring Community
wayfayer@goes.com
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A14) You've Been Out Drinking Again
An Irishman had been drinking at a pub all night. The bartender finally said that the bar is closing. So the Irishman stood up to leave fell flat on his face. He tried to stand one more time; same result. He figured he'll crawl outside and get some fresh air and maybe that will sober him up. Once outside, he stood up and fell on his face again.

So he decided to crawl the four blocks home. When he arrived at the door he stood up and fell flat on his face. He crawled through the door and into his bedroom. When he reached his bed he tried one more time to stand up. This time he managed to pull himself upright, but he quickly fell right into the bed and is sound asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He was awakened the next morning to his wife standing over him, shouting, "SO YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING AGAIN!" Putting on an innocent look, and intent on bluffing it out he said, "What makes you say that?" "The pub just called; you left your wheelchair there again."

A15) I've Lost Me Luggage
An Irishman arrived at J.F.K. Airport and wandered around the terminal with tears streaming down his cheeks. An airline employee asked him if he was already homesick. "No," replied the Irishman. "I've lost all me luggage!"
"How'd that happen?"
"The cork fell out!" said the Irishman.

A16) Water to Wine
An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut. The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.

He says, "Sir, have you been drinking?" "Just water," says the priest. The trooper says, "Then why do I smell wine?" The priest looks at the bottle and says, "Good Lord! He's done it again!"

A17) The Reunion
A man stumbles up to the only other patron in a bar and asks if he could buy him a drink. "Why, of course," comes the reply. The first man then asks, "Where are you from?" "I'm from Ireland," replies the second man. The first man responds: "You don't say, I'm from Ireland too! Let's have another round to Ireland." "Of course," says the second. Curious, the first asks: "Where in Ireland?" "Dublin," comes the reply. "I can't believe it, Me too! Lets have another round of drinks to Dublin." "Of course" The second man can't help himself so he asks, "What school did you attend?" "Saint Mary's", replies the first man. "I graduated in '62." "This is becoming unbelievable!!!" They say in union.

About that time, in comes one of the regulars and sits down at the bar. "What's up?" he asks the bartender. "Nothing much," replied the bartender. "The O'Malley twins are drunk again!"  
                                
A18) The Brothel
Two Irishmen were sitting a pub having beer and watching the brothel across the street. They saw a Baptist minister walk into the brothel, and one of them said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see a man of the cloth goin' bad." Then they saw a rabbi enter the brothel, and the other Irishman said, "Aye, 'tis a shame to see that the Jews are fallin' victim to temptation." Then they saw a Catholic priest enter the brothel, and one of the Irishmen said, "What a terrible pity... one of the girls must be quite ill."

A19) Lost at Sea
Two Irishmen, Patrick & Michael, were adrift in a lifeboat following a dramatic escape from a burning freighter. While rummaging through the boat's provisions, Patrick stumbled across an old lamp. Secretly hoping that a genie would appear, he rubbed the lamp vigorously. To the amazement of Patrick, a genie came forth. This particular genie, however, stated that he could only deliver one wish, not the standard three. Without giving much thought to the matter, Patrick blurted out, "Make the entire ocean into Guinness Beer!" The genie clapped his hands with a deafening crash, and immediately the entire sea turned into the finest brew ever sampled by mortals. Simultaneously, the genie vanished.

Only the gentle lapping of Guinness on the hull broke the stillness as the two men considered their circumstances. Michael looked disgustedly at Patrick whose wish had been granted. After a long, tension-filled moment, he spoke: "Nice going Patrick! Now we're going to have to pee in the boat."
Other stories and poems may be found at:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people40.htm
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A20) Irish Wedding Tale
Story:
A wedding occurred, just outside Cavan in Ireland. To keep tradition going, everyone got drunk and the bride's and groom's families have a storming row and begin wrecking the reception room and generally kicking the crap out of each other.

The Police get called in to break up the fight. The following week, all members of both families appear in court. The fight continues in the court room until the Judge finally brings calm with the use of his hammer, shouting "Silence in Court."

The courtroom goes silent and Paddy (the best man) stands up and says, "Judge.. I was the best man at the wedding and I think I should explain what happened". The Judge agrees and asks Paddy to take the stand. Paddy begins his explanation by telling the court that it is traditional in a Cavan wedding that the Best Man gets the first dance with the Bride. The judge says "OK."

"Well," said Paddy, "after I had finished the first dance, the music kept going, so I continued dancing to the second song, and after that the music kept going and I was dancing to the third song...when all of a sudden the Groom leapt over the table, ran towards us and gave the Bride an unmerciful kick in her privates."

The Judge instantly responded... "God.. that must have hurt!"
Paddy replies "HURT!.. He broke three of my fingers."
Other stories at:
http://www.lifeisajoke.com/irish_html.htm
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A21) The Wedding Night
Paddy and Bridget had just got married. It was their wedding night in the bridal suite. Bridget was lying on her back on the bed in an incredible shimmering silky neglige whimpering, "Take me Paddy, take me now,"

Paddy (having been a good Catholic boy) was a virgin and didn`t have the faintest idea what to do next. Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea. He dashed out of the room and went to Reception to ring his mum for advice. Her advice was to put the hardest part of his body into where Bridget wees. Paddy was a bit dubious about this but his mother assured him that Bridget would love it. Paddy came back in to the bedroom triumphantly, asked Bridget if she was ready. Bridget shouted, "Yes, Yes, I`m ready" and then watched in amazement as Paddy ran into the bathroom and put his head down the toilet.

A22) The Tap Dancer
Did you hear about the Irishman who was tap dancing?
A. He broke his ankle when he fell into the sink!
Many more stories:
http://www.madirish.com/
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A23) An Irish Love Story
The village of Glenbeigh, County Kerry is home to the beach where it is said the Celtic lovers Oisin (pronounced O-sheen) and Niamh (pronounced Nee-iv) departed Ireland and galloped across the waves to The Land of Eternal Youth.

After three hundred years, a time that felt like three weeks to Oisin, he returned to visit his native land. He accidentally fell from his horse and turned into an old man. It is said that from time to time a mystical girl on a white horse can be seen along the sand dunes, still looking for her sweetheart!

Other Irish love stories have been immortalized in the movies of Hollywood. Trace the steps of John Wayne and Maureen O ‘Hara who starred in 'The Quiet Man,' which was filmed in the scenic area of Cong, County Mayo. Or travel to the Dingle Peninsula, County Kerry, where Robert Mitchum starred in the legendary movie 'Ryan’s Daughter'.

County Sligo was a major inspiration in the work of the Irish poet William Butler Yeats who penned such classic love poems as 'When You Are Old' and 'A Poet to His Beloved'. Visit the land of Yeats and the urge to write your very own poem of love may prove too great to resist!
More at:
http://www.goireland.com/Valentine_05/valentine.htm
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A24) Five short and funny Irish stories
• Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp. "What happened to you?" asks Sean, the bartender. "Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy. "That little shit, O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand." "That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it." "Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?" "That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Conner's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."

• Three Irishmen, Paddy, Sean and  Shamus, were stumbling home from the pub late one night and found themselves on the road which led past the old graveyard. "Come have a look over here," says Paddy, "It's Michael  O'Grady's grave, God bless his soul. He lived to the ripe old age of 87." "That's nothing", says Sean, "here's one named Patrick O'Tool, it says here that he was 95 when he died." Just then, Shamus yells out, "Good God, here's a fella that got to be 145!" "What was his name?" asks Paddy? Shamus stumbles around a bit, awkwardly lights a match to see what else is written on the stone marker, and exclaims, "Miles, from Dublin."

• An Irishman who had a little too much to drink is driving home from the city one night and, of course, his  car is weaving violently all over the road. A cop pulls him over. "So," says the cop to the driver, "where have ya been?" "Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk. "Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening." "I did all right," the drunk says with a smile. "Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest, "that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?" "Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk. "For a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf."

• Brenda O'Malley is home making dinner, as usual, when Tim Finnegan arrives at her door. "Brenda, may I come in?" he asks. "I've somethin'to tell ya." "Of course you can come in, you're always welcome, Tim. But where's my husband?" "That's what I'm here to be tellin' ya, Brenda. There was an accident down at the Guinness brewery..." "Oh, God no!" cries Brenda. "Please don't tell me.." "I must, Brenda. Your husband Shamus is dead and gone. I'm sorry." Finally, she looked up at Tim. "How did it happen, Tim?" "It was terrible, Brenda. He fell into a vat of Guinness Stout and drowned." "Oh my dear Jesus! But you must tell me true, Tim. Did he at least go quickly?" "Well, no Brenda... no. Fact is, he got out three times to pee."

• Mary Clancy goes up to Father O'Grady after his Sunday morning service, and she's in tears. He says, "So what's bothering you, Mary my dear?" She says, "Oh, Father, I've got terrible news. My husband passed away last night." The priest says, "Oh, Mary, that's terrible. Tell me, Mary, did he have any last requests?" She says, "That he did, Father.." The priest says, "What did he ask, Mary?" She says, "He said, 'Please Mary, put down that damn gun...' 
•••••
Source:
http://www.tech-sol.net/humor/people71.htm
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A25) A Fly in My Pint
One day an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman walked into a pub together. They each bought a pint of Guinness. Just as they were about to enjoy their creamy beverage, three flies landed in each of their pints, and were stuck in the thick head.

The Englishman pushed his beer away in disgust. The Scotsman fished the fly out of his beer, and continued drinking it, as if nothing had happened.

The Irishman, too, picked the fly out of his drink, held it out over the beer, and started yelling, "SPIT IT OUT, SPIT IT OUT YOU BASTARD!!!!"
•••••
Many more stories may be found at:
http://www.lifeisajoke.com/irish43_html.htm
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A26) The Abusive Parrot
A guy named David received a parrot for his birthday. The parrot was fully grown, with a bad attitude and worse vocabulary. Every other word was an expletive. Those that weren't expletives were, to say the least, rude. David tried hard to change the bird's attitude and was constantly saying polite words, playing soft music, anything he could think of to try and set a good example.

Nothing worked. He yelled at the bird and the bird yelled back. He shook the bird and the bird just got more angry and more rude. Finally, in a moment of desperation, David put the parrot in the freezer.

For a few moments he heard the bird squawk and kick and scream. Then suddenly there was quiet. Not a sound for half a minute. David was frightened that he might have hurt the bird and quickly opened the freezer door. The parrot calmly stepped out onto David's extended arm and said, "I believe I may have offended you with my rude language and actions. I will endeavor at once to correct my behavior. I really am truly sorry and beg your forgiveness."

David was astonished at the bird's change in attitude and was about to ask what had made such a dramatic change when the parrot continued, "May I ask what the chicken did?"
•••••
Many more short and funny stories may be found at:
http://www.poddys.com/jokes/jokes2.htm#RegularJokes2
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A27) An Irish Confession
As soon as she had finished convent school, a bright young girl named Lena shook the dust of Ireland off her shoes and made her way to New York where before long, she became a successful performer in show business.

Eventually she returned to her home town for a visit and on a Saturday night went to confession in the church where she had always attended as a child. In the confessional Father Sullivan recognized her and began asking her about her work.

She explained that she was an acrobatic dancer, and he wanted to know what that meant. She said she would be happy to show him the kind of thing she did on stage. She stepped out of the confessional and within sight of Father Sullivan, she went into a series of cartwheels, leaping splits, handsprings and back flips.

Kneeling near the confessional, waiting their turn, were two middle-aged ladies. They witnessed Lena's acrobatics with wide eyes, and one said to the other, "Will you just look at the penance Father Sullivan is givin' out this night, and me without me bloomers on!"
•••••
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A28) An Irish Story
A bartender in New York realized that every Friday afternoon a man with a strong Irish brogue would come into his bar and order three glasses of scotch whiskey at one time and have them set up in a row in front of him at the bar. He would then polish them off and depart after paying his tab and leaving a generous tip. This went on for weeks.

Finally the bartender asked the gent if there was a story behind this ritual. The fellow explained that when he left the Old Sod to come to New York he left behind two brothers in the beautiful city of Galway. Just before he left the three brothers promised to go to their local pubs every Friday afternoon after and have a shot of whiskey for their brothers and then enjoy one for themselves. With this little ritual they would keep the bond between them and "bet together" despite the thousands of miles that now separated them.

The bartender was touched.

There soon came a time when the Irishman came into the bar and only ordered two drinks. The bartender thought this was odd, but after the second week he began to fear that something had happened to one of the brothers in Ireland. He very delicately approached his regular customer and inquired about the well-being of the man's two brothers. He was re-assured that they were both well.

"But why are you only ordering two drinks?"
The customer responded, "Oh my brothers are both well, that's why I'm having a drink for each of them."
"But why aren't you having your usual third drink?"
"Oh, you see, I've given up drinking for Lent," came the response.
•••••
Courtesy of Rev. Gennaro DiSpigno
This story and others may be found at:
http://www.broadwayworld.com
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B. Longer Irish Stories

B1) Janey Mary
[by James Plunkett]
Excerpt:
When Janey Mary turned the corner into Nicholas Street that morning, she leaned wearily against a shop-front to rest. Her small head was bowed and the hair which was so nondescript and unclean covered her face. Her small hands gripped one another for warmth across the faded bodice of her frock. Around the corner lay Canning Cottages with their tiny, frost-gleaming gardens, and gates that were noisy and freezing to touch. She had tried each of them in turn. Her timid knock was well known to the people who lived in Canning Cottages. That morning some of them said: " It's that little 'Carthy one, never mind opening. Twice in the last week she's been around - it's too much of a good thing." Those who did answer her had been dour. They poked cross and harassed faces around half-open doors. Tell her mammy, they said, it's at school she should have her, and not out worrying poor people the likes of them. They had the mouths of their own to feed and the bellies of their own to fill, and God knows that took doing.

The school was in Nicholas Street and children with satchels were already passing. Occasionally Janey Mary could see a few paper books peeping from an open flap, and beside them a child's lunch and a bottle of milk. In the schoolroom was a scrawled and incomprehensible blackboard, and rows of staring faces which sniggered when Janey Mary was stupid in her answers.

Sometimes Father Benedict would visit the school. He asked questions in Catechism and gave the children sweets. He was a huge man who had more intuition than intellect, more genuine affection for children than for learning. One day he found Janey Mary sitting by herself in the back desk. She felt him, giant-like above her, bending over her. Some wrapped sweets were put on her desk.

"And what's your name, little girl?"
"Janey Mary 'Carthy, Father."
"I'm Father Benedict of the Augustinians Where do you live?"
Father Benedict had pushed his way and shoved his way until he was sitting in the desk beside her, Quite suddenly Janey Mary had felt safe and warm. She said easily, "I lives In Canning Cottages."

He talked to her while the teacher continued self-consciously with her lesson.
"So, your daddy works in the meat factory?"
"No, Father, my daddy's dead."

Father Benedict nodded and patted her shoulder.
"You and I must be better friends, Janey," he said….
(click on the link below to read the rest of the story)
•••••
For the rest of the story, go to:
http://www.ireland-information.com/JaneyMary.htm
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B2) The Leprehauns
[by Lady Wilde, as found in Ancient Legends of Ireland]
[Leprehaun, or Leith Brogan, means the "Artisan of the Brogue".]
Story:
The Leprehauns are merry, industrious, tricksy little sprites, who do all the shoemaker's work and the tailor's and the cobbler's for the fairy gentry, and are often seen at sunset under the hedge singing and stitching. They know all the secrets of hidden treasure, and if they take a fancy to a person will guide him him to the spot in the fairy rath where the pot of gold lies buried. It is believed that a family now living near Castlerea came by their riches in a strange way, all though the good offices of a friendly Leprehaun. And the legend has been handed down through many generations as an established fact.

There was a poor boy once, one of their forefathers, who used to drive his cart of turf daily back and forward, and make what money he could by the sale; but he was a strange boy, very silent and moody, and the people said he was a fairy changeling, for he joined in no sports and scarcely ever spoke to any one, but spent the nights reading all the old bits of books he picked up in his rambles. The one thing he longed for above all others was to get rich, and to be able to give up the old weary turf cart, and live in peace and quietness all alone, with nothing but books round him, in a beautiful house and garden all by himself.

Now he had read in the old books how the Leprehauns knew all the secret places where gold lay hid, and day by day he watched for a sight of the little cobbler, and listened for the click, click of his hammer, as he sat under the hedge mending the shoes.

At last, one evening just as the sun set, he saw a little fellow under a dock leaf, working away, dressed all in green, with a cocked hat on his head. So the boy jumped down from the cart and seized him by the neck.

"Now, you don't stir from this," he cried, "till you tell me where to find the hidden gold."

"Easy now," said the Leprehaun, "don't hurt me, and I will tell you all about it. But mind you, I could hurt you if I chose, for I have the power; but I won't do it, for we are cousins once removed. So as we are near relations I'll just be good, and show you the place of the secret gold that none can have or keep except those of fairy blood and race. Come along with me, then, to the old fort of Lipenshaw, for there it lies. But make haste, for when the last red glow of the sun vanishes the gold will disappear also, and you will never find it again..."
(click on the link below to read the rest of this story)
•••••
The rest of this story may be found at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/leprehaun.html
Other stories by Lady Wilde are at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/
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B3) The Doctor and the Fairy Princess
[by Lady Wilde, as found in Ancient Legends of Ireland]
Excerpt:
Late one night, so the story goes, a great doctor, who lived near Lough Neagh, was awoke by the sound of a carriage driving up to his door, followed by a loud ring. Hastily throwing on his clothes, the doctor ran down, when he saw a little sprite of a page standing at the carriage door, and a grand gentleman inside.

"Oh, doctor, make haste and come with me," exclaimed the gentleman. "Lose no time, for a great lady has been taken ill, and she will have no one to attend her but you. So come along with me at once in the carriage."

On this the doctor ran up again to finish his dressing, and to put up all that might be wanted, and was down again in a moment.

"Now quick," said the gentleman, "you are an excellent good fellow. Sit down here beside me, and do not be alarmed at anything you may see."

So they drove like mad--and when they came to the ferry, the doctor thought they would wake up the ferryman and take the boat; but no, in they plunged, carriage and horses, and all, and were at the other side in no time without a drop of water touching them.

Now the doctor began to suspect the company he was in; but he held his peace, and they went on up Shane's Hill, till they stopped at a long, low, black house, which they entered, and passed along a narrow dark passage, groping their way, till, all at once, a bright light lit up the walls, and some attendants having opened a door, the doctor found himself in a gorgeous chamber all hung with silk and gold; and on a silken couch lay a beautiful lady, who exclaimed with the most friendly greeting--

"Oh, doctor, I am so glad to see you. How good of you to come."

"Many thanks, my lady," said the doctor, "I am at your ladyship's service."

And he stayed with her till a male child was born; but when he looked round their was no nurse, so he wrapped it in swaddling clothes and laid it by the mother."

"Now," said the lady, "mind what I tell you. They will try to put a spell on you to keep you here; but take my advice, eat no food and drink no wine, and you will be safe; and mind, also, that you express no surprise at anything you see; and take no more than five golden guineas, though you may be offered fifty or a hundred, as your fee."

"Thank you, madam," said the doctor, "I shall obey you in all things."

With this the gentleman came into the room, grand and noble as a prince, and then he took up the child, looked at it and laid it again on the bed.

Now there was a large fire in the room, and the gentleman took the fire shovel and drew all the burning coal to the front, leaving a great space at the back of the grate; then he took up the child again and laid it in the hollow at the back of the fire and drew the coal over it till it was covered; but, mindful of the lady's advice, the doctor said never a word. Then the room suddenly changed to another still more beautiful, where a grand feast was laid out, of all sorts of meats and fair fruits and bright red wine in cups of sparkling silver.

"Now, doctor," said the gentleman, "sit down with us and take what best pleases you...."
(click on the link below to read the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story by Lady Wilde may be found at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/doctor.html
Other stories by Lady Wilde are at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/
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B4) Queen Maeve by Lady Wilde, as found in Ancient Legends of Ireland
[A remarkable account is given in the Bardic Legends of a form that appeared to Maeve, queen of Connaught, on the eve of battle.]
Story:
Suddenly there stood before the queen's chariot, a tall and beautiful woman. She wore a green robe clasped with a golden bodkin, a golden fillet on her head, and seven braids for the Dead of bright gold were in her hand. Her skin was white as snow that falls in the night; her teeth were as pearls; her lips red as the berries of the mountain ash; her golden hair fell to the ground; and her voice was sweet as the golden harp-string when touched by a skillful hand.

"Who art thou, O woman?" asked the queen, in astonishment.

"I am Feithlinn, the fairy prophetess of the Rath of Cruachan," she answered.

"'Tis well, O Feithlinn the prophetess," said Maeve; "but what doest thou foresee concerning our hosts?"

"I foresee bloodshed; I foresee power; I foresee defeat!" answered the prophetess.

"My couriers have brought me good tidings!" said the queen; "my army is strong, my warriors are well-prepared. But speak the truth, O prophetess; for my soul knows no fear."

"I foresee bloodshed; I foresee victory!" answered the prophetess the second time.

"But I have nothing to fear from the Ultonians," said the queen, "for my couriers have arrived, and my enemies are under dread. Yet, speak the truth, O prophetess, that our hosts may know it."

"I foresee bloodshed; I foresee conquest; I foresee death!" answered the prophetess, for the third time.

"To me then it belongs not, thy prophecy of evil," replied the queen, in anger.

"Be it thine, and on thy own head."

And even as she spoke the prophet maiden disappeared, and the queen saw her no more.

But it so happened that, some time afterwards, Queen Maeve was cruelly slain by her own kinsman, at Lough Rea by the Shannon, to avenge the assistance she had given in war to the king of Ulster; there is an island in the lake where is shown the spot where the great queen was slain, and which is still known to the people as--the stone of the dead queen.

Maeve, the great queen of Connaught, holds a distinguished place in Bardic Legends. When she went to battle, it is said, she rode in an open car, accompanied by four chariots--one before, another behind, and one on each side--so that the golden assion on her head and her royal robes should not be defiled by the dust of the horses' feet, or the foam of the fiery steeds; for all the sovereigns of Ireland sat crowned with a diadem in battle, as they drove in their war-chariots, as well as in the festal and the public assemblies.
•••••
This story by Lady Wilde may be found at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/maeve.htm
Other stories by Lady Wilde are at:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Wilde/
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B5) The Fairy Child
[From Patrick Kennedy's Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts (1866).]
Excerpt: There was a sailor that lived up in Grange when he was at home; and one time, when he was away seven or eight months, his wife was brought to bed of a fine boy. She expected her husband home soon, and she wished to put off the christening of the child till he'd be on the spot. She and her husband were not natives of the country, and they were not as much afraid of leaving the child unchristened as our people would be.

Well, the child grew and throve, and the neighbors all bothered the woman to take him to Father M.'s to be baptized, and all they said was no use. "Her husband would be home soon, and then they'd have a joyful christening."

There happened to be no one sick up in that neighborhood for some time, so the priest did not come to the place, nor hear of the birth, and none of the people about her could make up their minds to tell upon her, it is such an ugly thing to be informing; and then the child was so healthy, and the father might be on the spot any moment.

So the time crept on, and the lad was a year and a half old, and his mother up to that time never lost five nights' rest by him; when one evening that she came in from binding after the reapers, she heard wonderful whingeing and lamenting from the little bed where he used to sleep. She ran over to him and asked him what ailed him. "Oh, mammy, I'm sick, and I'm hungry, and I'm cold; don't pull down that blanket." Well, the poor woman ran and got some boiled bread and milk as soon as she could, and asked her other son, that was about seven years old, when he took sick.

"Oh, mother," says he, "he was as happy as a king, playing near the fire about two hours ago, and I was below in the room, when I heard a great rush like as if a whole number of fowls were flying down the chimley. I heard my brother giving a great cry, and then another sound like as if the fowls were flying out again; and when I got into the kitchen there he was, so miserable-looking that I hardly knew him, and he pulling his hair, and his clothes, and his poor face so dirty. Take a look at him, and try do you know him at all."

So when she went to feed him she got such a fright for his poor face was like an old man's, and his body, and legs, and arms, all thin and hairy. But still he resembled the child she left in the morning, and "mammy, mammy" was never out of his mouth. She heard of people being fairy-struck, so she supposed it was that that happened to him, but she never suspected her own child to be gone, and a fairy child left in its place...
(click on the link below to read the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story may be found at Fairy Stories and Anecdotes:
http://www.faerylands.org/faerie/Story/
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B6) Finn Macumhail - an Irish myth
[This type of mythology is not told as much as the folktales.]
Have you heard of the salmon of knowledge?  In ancient times when the fairy folk had a battle for the control of Erin, the fairy folk of the sidh had hidden all their knowledge past, present and future in the hazel trees growing along the banks of the river Boyne. When the sidh lost the last battle and retreated underground, the hazel trees were forgotten. And when the hazelnuts ripened and dropped into the Boyne, a wily salmon ate them.

So naturally, legends grew up around the salmon of knowledge and there was a prophesy that he could only be caught by one called Finn. The greatest hero of old Ireland was Fionn Macumhail, the leader of those brave champions of Erin, the Fianna, yet in times of greatest trouble, he could be seen sucking his thumb.  

Just as young Finn Macumhail was born, his father was killed by jealous enemies. These enemies wanted to kill his son also.  So his mother hid her baby in the forest with two women warriors.  He had been named Diemna, but he was so blond, they called him Finn which means fair.  Diemne learned from them all he needed to learn to be a respected member of the Fianna warriors, except poetry. To learn this he had to go along the river Boyne and seek the poet Finegas.  He finally found the old poet’s camp. “My name is Diemne. I have wish to learn poetry for my warrior’s education.  Will you accept me as a pupil?” “I will. Here.”  And he thrust a fishing pole in Diemne’s hand and he immediately launched into an ancient poem.
 
And so Diemne stayed with the poet and spent many hours a day reciting the ancient poetry after Finegas. Finegas spent most of his time fishing.   Now what Diemne found odd about that was that the poet did not like fish. One day when the young pupil came back from hunting, Finegas had his arms around a huge salmon.  ”Help!” So Diemna held it until it didn’t move.  “What kind of fish is it? It can’t be normal.”  “Oh, it’s a very old species of salmon, lad.” “What are we going to do with it?” “I am going to eat it.” “But you don’t like fish.” “Well, this fish is special.  You clean it and cook it and wake me the second it is ready. And you are not to eat so much as a morsel, do you hear me?”  ”Yessir.”

The boy put the fish over the fire and when it was nearly done a big blister raised on the skin so Diemne reached out to press it down with his thumb. OWW! He had to put his thumb in his mouth to cool it.  Finegas awakened and in one look he saw the knowledge in Diemne’s eyes.  “You know don’t you?” “Know what?”  “Everything: past present and future.  Diemne, have you any other name?”  “Well I am called also called Finn”  “Ahhh. I should have known years ago I was not the Finn in the prophesy.  You may as well eat the rest of the fish, lad.  It’s the salmon of knowledge you’ve just tasted and its no good to me any more. And besides I don’t like fish anyway.”

So it came to be that when the hero Finn Macumhail was in trouble, he sucked his thumb.  And he would suddenly know everything, for he had tasted the salmon of knowledge.
•••••
Contributed by
Cathryn Fairlee
Cathryn Tells All
cfair@monitor.net
http://www.monitor.net/~cfair
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B7) The Story of Mac Datho's Pig
[The Scél Mucci Mic Dathó, or "Story of Mac Dathó's Pig," is regarded as one of the best of the Irish sagas. It belongs to the heroic cycle of Ulster, depicting some of the events which lead to the Táin Bó Cúalnge, the Cattle Raid of Cooley. Many, in fact, consider it to be a parody of earlier heroic tales.

The earliest known manuscript version of the tale is from the 12th century, but the time period in which the story takes place seems to be around the beginning of the Christian era. This text and the Index to Proper Names are from N. Kershaw Chadwick, An Early Irish Reader, Cambridge University Press.]
Excerpt:
There was a famous king of Leinster. Mac Dathó was his name. He had a hound; the hound defended the whole of Leinster. The hound's name was Ailbe, and Ireland was full of its fame. Messengers came from Ailill and Medb asking for the hound. Moreover at the same time there came also messengers from Conchobar Mac Nessa to ask for the same hound. They were all made welcome and brought to him in the hall. That is one of the six halls that were in Ireland at that time, the others being the hall of Da Derga in the territory of Cualu, and the hall of Forgall Manach, and the hall of Mac Dareo in Brefne, and the hall of Da Choca in the west of Meath, and the hall of Blai the landowner in Ulster. There were seven doors in that hall, and seven passages through it, and seven hearths in it, and seven cauldrons, and an ox and a salted pig in each cauldron. Every man who came along the passage used to thrust the flesh-fork into a cauldron, and whatever he brought out at the first catch was his portion. If he did not obtain anything at the first attempt he did not have another.

Now the messengers were brought to him in his place that he might learn their requests before the feast. They delivered their message: "We have come from Ailill and from Medb to beg the hound," said the messengers of Connaught; "and there shall be given three score hundred milch cows at once, and a chariot and two horses, the best in Connaught, and their equivalent gifts at the end of a year in addition to this."

"We also have come from Conchobar to ask for it," said the messengers from Ulster; "and Conchobar's value as a friend is no less-and to give you treasure and cattle; and the same amount shall be given you at the end of a year, and close friendship will be the result."

Thereupon our Mac Dathó lapsed into total silence and in this way he was a whole day(?) without drink, without food, without sleep, tossing from side to side. Then his wife said to him: "You are making a long fast. There is food beside you but you don't eat it. What ails you?"

He gave the woman no answer, so the woman said:

"Sleeplessness fell upon Mac Dathó at his home. There was something upon which he was brooding without speaking to anyone.

"He turns away from me and turns to the wall, the warrior of the Fían (?) of fierce valour; it causes concern to his prudent wife that her husband is sleepless."

The Man: "Crimthann Nia Nair said: 'Do not tell your secret to women.' The secret of a woman is not well kept. A treasure is not entrusted to a slave."...
(click below for the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story may be found at:
http://vassun.vassar.edu/~sttaylor/MacDatho/
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B8) Fergus O’Lorcain, The Irish Lad Who Had No Story as retold by the late Chuck Larkin, Bluegrass Storyteller
Excerpt:
Once upon a time, a long time ago, when the rich earth of Ireland was preparing to snooze under the Fall’s fi rst blanket of snow, Fergus O’Lorcain was returning home to celebrate the beginning of the long, cold winter with his family in the village of Dublin.

Fergus was a peddler. He carried a large wooden pack frame on his back. Attached snugly to the pack frame was an enormous, and spacious bag, almost empty, now that Fergus was returning home. When beginning a trip, Fergus would fi ll the vast knapsack to the brim with thick socks woven from wool, and a couple of thin blankets to use, when he had to camp out in the woods, which, to be truthful, was quite often.

On this trip, Fergus had ranged north along the coast of the Irish Sea visiting the camps of the Fianna warriors, who were preparing for winter. Now, while it was true that the Fianna were ready to buy Fergus’ socks, the Fianna otherwise shunned Fergus with much disdain. Fergus had a problem and this was the way of it.

In that ancient time, there were no motels or restaurants. A traveler would stay in someone’s home. Also in those days, there were no radios, television or newspapers. Any news outside of your village was brought by travelers, and the only entertainment available was provided by travelers.

When one visited in someone’s home, one paid for the room and board by entertaining the family. For example, to become a member of the Fianna warriors, man or woman, in addition to demonstrating extraordinary feats of athletic skills and fearlessness, you had to know twelve books of poetry by heart and be able to recite them. A Fianna warrior was not only brave and fierce in battle, but was also a poetic storyteller.

Fergus O’Lorcain did not know any poetry, did not know how to play a musical instrument, not even an Irish penny whistle! Can you believe that, not even a penny whistle! Fergus didn’t even know any news, except what his family was doing, when he left home last, and that never changed from trip to trip.

The real appalling and shocking truth, was the sad fact that Fergus O’Lorcain did not even know a story. In Ireland, everybody knew at least a story, even the wee children.

When Fergus O’Lorcain walked into a room, the people in the room got up and walked out, because in old Ireland no one would even stay in a room if no one was telling a story.

It did not take long for people all over Ireland to learn that there was a sock peddler, named Fergus O’Lorcain, who did not even know a story. When people saw Fergus on the road, they would run home, lock their doors and hide, and pretend no one was home. If they needed socks, they would meet Fergus on the road away from their homes to buy from him.

Something different happened on this trip. Fergus was walking home, with his hat pulled low over his face, so no one would recognize him. He was so embarrassed when he would meet someone who knew him. When people recognized Fergus, they would turn and run away, or sometimes would fall down and pretend they were dead.

Fergus was cold and tired from walking toward home all day. He had, as usual, slept in the woods the night before and had eaten the last of his food. He couldn’t buy any food from a farm, because he knew everybody would run away, or hide and pretend they were away visiting. He would have to stay hungry until he reached a village. It looked like he would have to sleep in the woods that night and without supper.

This is what Fergus later told us. “It was almost dark with a full moon rising, I decided to fi nd some long grass to pull together for a bed, when I realized I had left the foot path and was lost. I walked up hill to both pass the night and to get my bearings in the morning, when I realized, I, Fergus O’Lorcain, was myself, nowhere else but on Raven Hill.

Oh, the terror of that moment. My teeth started chattering. My limbs started shaking. I would have run, walked or crawled off Raven Hill but wouldn’t you know I was so scared, I was trembling and paralyzed with fear. There be no place in Ireland that has more bad tales about it than Raven Hill. I fell to the ground, I did. I crawled into the underbrush I did and pulled myself under a thick bush.

I pulled together a pile of leaves, put my two thin blankets on the leaves then covered it all with a high mound of more leaves and grass. I crawled in between the blankets in the middle of the pile, out of sight, and said my prayers fervently; made fists with two fingers on both sides of my thumbs to ward off the bad dreams and fend off any other wicked thing that might be about on Raven Hill.

I must have fallen asleep. When I next popped open my eyes, and peeped out between my blankets, it was pitch black night, the moon was not yet up. Something had startled me awake.”

“Fergus! Fergus O’Lorcain! We know you’re here! Where are you, you young rapscallion?”

“Who’s calling me? Where are you?” Fergus pounced to his feet, in the middle of the bush. “What do you want with me? I don’t see no one, where are you?”...
(click below for the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story and many others may be found at Chuck Larkin's website:
http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html
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B9) Bridget
[Collected from Jack Kenny and adapted by Bluegrass Storyteller Chuck Larkin Atlanta, GA, USA Hello to Storytellers I gift thee this and as was in the olden Sencha Bardic days blessed be those who learn the flowing image and tell before adding their own souls to the story.]
Excerpt:
Bridget Kenny was born, I was told, on one of the Islands off the Irish coast towards the close of the last century. Which island I don’t recall. She lived at the time of this story with her mother May Kenny in the home of her Uncle Jim Fitspatrick, a Pastor of the local church.

Bridget as a child was not unlike like any of the other Island children with the exception of her reputation of being fearless. By the time she was in her teens she had withstood so many attempts by the children of her village to frighten her they had given up trying to even startle her. And this is the story of her strange adventure.

Bridget was passing her uncle’s church on the way home when she seen some friends over in the Church’s graveyard opening a new grave and stopped to visit.

“Hay Bridg did you come to give us a hand with the digging?”

“Ah no you seem to have plenty of hands and time to do your work.”

It was a bit after she had stopped and was chatting with her friends when one of the digger’s shovel hit a hard object. Clearing out the dirt Shawn uncovered a huge leg bone and with a grin lifted it up for the others to see.

“Hay Bridg what do you think?”
“Pass it up here Shawn and let me hold it.”
Bridget stood there holding the huge leg bone in both hands.
“Aye this once must have been a huge man.”
“Shawn you need to rebury this’un.”
“We’ll do it Bridg, it must have been one of the old Fianna warriors”
“But I’ll tell you boys one thing, I, Bridget Kenny, would love to kiss a man this big.”

And with that comment and the chuckles from the fellows the leg bone was returned to the grave.

That evening after supper, Pastor Jim said, “Bridget would you do me a favor and run a short errand. I left some papers on the pulpit at the church that I need for the sermon I’m working on. Would you mind fetching them for me?”

“Yes Uncle I’ll be back in a bit.” The night was dark, with a bit of star and moon light, enough to see by as Bridget went up along the path to the church. When she entered the sanctuary she lit a bit of a candle she was carrying and set it in the holder by the door. Going up to the front she found and picked up the papers and turned to leave.

That is when she noticed a man, a huge man, sitting in the last pew, although hardly sitting because by candle light he appeared to be barely able to wedge himself into the pew. As Bridget came down the isle she said,
“Good evening to you sir, and how are you?”
“Well I don’t really know Ms. Bridget. In the light I seem to be covered with a bit of dirt and grime and agh my beard is badly tangled. But it was a kiss you asked for so I have come to oblige you if you wish.”
“Oh my, well thank you sir and why not?”
Bridget leaned over just a tad and kissed him on the lips.
“I thank you for your” - but the man was fading from sight.
“Good night!”
Bridget picked up the candle, snuffed out the flame closed the doors and went home.
“Here are the papers, Uncle.”
“Thank you Bridget and did you have any trouble finding them?”
“Oh no Uncle but I did learn something tonight.”
“And what was that you learned?”
“I learned that sometimes you get your wishes.”
•••••
This story and many others may be found at Chuck Larkin's website:
http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html
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B10) Mary Culhaine
[A few years back a school board religious fuss over this story resulted in a need for a script. I found that both the Folktellers and Carol Birch had a manuscript version available from National Storytelling Association (NSA) on audio cassettes based on a published version from the early ’70s.

One will note that the dialogue between the characters returning to the grave yard in the published version is in an illogical reverse order. Logically the Cadaver asks the questions and Mary answers. I have included the Bible with holy water in order to upgrade to southern USA culture (our Bible thumping kids do not know “Holy Water”). The substitution of dirty water in some variations also is not logical.

Manuscript variants can be found titled “Mary Culhane and the Dead Man” in The Goblins Giggle, by Molly Bang and “The Blood Drawing Ghost” in Robert D. San Souci’s collection “Even More Short and Shivery.” I have also listened to a version told by a storyteller from Belfast, Ireland and this old Irish legend has many variations as the story involved teenagers and was quite different.]
Excerpt:
Jim Culhaine was walking home during the long shadows of the late afternoon. He was swinging his blackthorn walking stick, feeling good. Jim had been drinking with his friends and was a bit late for supper. He decided to take a short cut through the cemetery. Just as he was about to step over the wall to the woods path he noticed a fresh opened grave! “Ah, now that’s a bit strange I wonder why the new grave? No one in Carlisle has died or I would have heard about the wake.” As Jim stood there thinking he heard a strange groaning sound from the open grave. The noise startled him! He gave a jump, dropped his blackthorn walking stick, turned and leaped over the wall. Jim being a bit skittish quickly went through the woods path and the streets to his house.

The family was already seated at the dinner table. As Jim sat down he said, “ah, I dropped my walking stick!” His daughter Mary Culhaine, who was about 18 years old at the time said, “Daddy where did you drop it?” “I remember something startled me as I was crossing the graveyard and I dropped it just inside of the wall by the woods path. I’ll fetch it in the morning.” “Daddy I’ll fetch it for you now.” Before any body could stop her Mary was up and running out the door. She ran down the street through the woods path and hopped over the wall. It was now dusk. In the darkness she could still see the long slender black walking stick in the grass.

As Mary was bending over to pick up the stick when she heard. “Mary, Mary Culhaine, come over here and help me out of this grave.” Mary started to turn and head for the wall but she found she could not move. A force held her and she found herself standing and turning. Slowly, struggling she was being forced to walk toward a gaping hole of an open grave which looked like a deeper blackness on the dark ground. “Mary reach down here and help me up out of this grave.” Mary found herself kneeling down on the side of the grave and then her hand on its own began to reach down into the darkness. Something cold and clammy grabbed hold of her hand and began pulling itself up out of the grave. The creature next climbed onto her back, wrapped its arms around her neck and legs around her waist. “All right Mary stand up and take me into the town.” Mary found herself slowly standing and with the creature holding and ridding her piggy back turned and crossed the graveyard wall.

Mary left the woods path and started walking down the street. As she was passing the fi rst house the creature said, “Mary stop here.” “Sniff, sniff, sniff. Keep going to the next house Mary.” Mary found herself being stopped at each house while the creature sniffed the air. When they reached the corner the creature lifted one arm and pointed. “Mary turn that way.” In the moonlight Mary could see the outstretched arm. She could see where the fl esh had rotted off the bones and parts of the creature’s skeleton were visible, plus it smelt pretty bad! “What is it you are smelling for?” “Mary I am smelling each house looking for a house without any holy water or Bibles in it. Keep moving. Stop here, sniff, sniff, sniff. Now the next house.”

House after house they stopped and the creature, an old dead cadaver sniffed the air. Finely the creature said, “ah Mary here is a house with no holy water or Bibles. We will go in here.” Mary looked up at the house in the moonlight and recognized the Finnagin home. She knew that there were three teenage boys upstairs sleeping in the front bedroom and there parents were sleeping in the upstairs back bedroom. “I don’t want to go in their home, we will wake them up!” “No one wakes up Mary when we go into their homes. Now do it.” Mary tried to resist but the creatures power was too strong and they entered the house.

“Take me into the kitchen Mary.” When they reached the kitchen the cadaver slipped off Mary’s back and sat on a chair by the kitchen table. “Mary fix me two bowls of oatmeal.”...
(click below for the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story and many other Irish tales may be found at Chuck Larkin's website:
http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html
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B11 - The Hunt
[An Irish Celtic Tale about Fianna Warriors adapted by Bluegrass Storyteller Chuck Larkin.]
Excerpt:
Finn was on a hunt with Diarmuid of the LoveSpot, ah poor Diarmuid, just above his right eye, he had a spot that when a woman looked upon it, oh poor lass, she fell in love with Diarmuid. He took to wearing his hat tilted down over his right eye to cover the spot to gain some peace and thus began the tradition of young men over the centuries to our time to also tilt their hats over their right eye. Great Conan also was with Finn and Diarmuid. Conan was a giant of a warrior. If you passed Conan on a path and you carried a frown on your face that was your invitation to be punched on the nose by Conan or if a Lass left her door open while brewing a bark tea that was an invitation for Conan to drop in for a visit.

These great Irish Celtic heroes were Fianna warriors and to be of the Fianna, man or woman you had to pass great feats of athletic skill and courage and also you had to know twelve books of poetry by heart. Finn himself ,he was well known in his day as a poet, aye that he was.

On this day of sport, soon after the rising of the sun, they spied a great white buck deer and began the chase to reach within a spear toss. As hard as they ran in turns none were able to close the gap for a spear toss. By mid day, they had left the wood and were on a wide flat moor. ‘Twas late in the afternoon, it was, it was, when Finn called his companions to a halt. “See there to the west, a storm is brewing and moving this way. We’d best go back to the forest where we can fi nd shelter and wood for a fire.”

They did, they did turn back and after a bit as the shadows grew long, Conan spoke; “ There to the left is that not a light, perhaps a cabin? Though I don’t recall any living here abouts. Should we not turn aside and see for ourselves?” “Aye,” said the others. And sure as it can be, it was a small dwelling they approached. On arrival Finn rapped on the door with the butt end of his long slender hunting spear.

From inside, they heard an old piddling wizened voice. “I hear you, I hear you, and I know who ye be! But ‘fore I let ye in me cabin, I want your word you will act as perfect gentlemen or you will answer to me, aye, you will answer to me.”

Finn with a huge grin on his face and a bit of a chuckle over the threat responded, “Aye you have our word, we will, we will be perfect gentlemen."

The door slowly opened. There in the firelight, stood a little man, heavy with the weight of age, long in gray hair, below his shoulders it was, it was and beard to his waist. “Come in, come in and sit there by the table," and in a squeaky voice, “remember to mind your manners.”

Leaving their hunting spears outside by the door they entered, “Oh, we will, we will,” politely and solemnly said the three. They looked about the cabin, not unusual, one other door and a little billy goat prancing about. The door opened and in came a young woman in glistening green attire and a wild head of red hair. “Well now, welcome to our home, I’ll start a bit of dinner for us.”

As she moved toward the fireplace, didn’t Diarmuid himself stare and startled, sucked in a mighty huff of air. He was frozen motionless and could only follow her with his eyes. Diarmuid after a moment and a shudder reached up and whipped his hat off his head to uncover the lovespot. “Aye, Lass, you are so beautiful, so beautiful, your voice sings deep, deep, deep into my soul. I don’t mean to be so froward but would you wed with me?”...
(click below for the rest of the story)
•••••
The rest of this story and many other Irish tales may be found at Chuck Larkin's website:
http://chucklarkin.com/stories.html
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B12) Connla and the Fairy Maiden
[Source: Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs.]
Story:
ONNLA of the Fiery Hair was son of Conn of the Hundred Fights. One day as he stood by the side of his father on the height of Usna, he saw a maiden clad in strange attire coming towards him.

"Whence comest thou, maiden?" said Connla.

"I come from the Plains of the Ever Living," she said, "there where there is neither death nor sin. There we keep holiday alway, nor need we help from any in our joy. And in all our pleasure we have no strife. And because we have our homes in the round green hills, men call us the Hill Folk."

The king and all with him wondered much to hear a voice when they saw no one. For save Connla alone, none saw the Fairy Maiden.

"To whom art thou talking, my son?" said Conn the king.

Then the maiden answered, "Connla speaks to a young, fair maid, whom neither death nor old age awaits. I love Connla, and now I call him away to the Plain of Pleasure, Moy Mell, where Boadag is king for aye, nor has there been complaint or sorrow in that land since he has held the kingship. Oh, come with me, Connla of the Fiery Hair, ruddy as the dawn with thy tawny skin. A fairy crown awaits thee to grace thy comely face and royal form. Come, and never shall thy comeliness fade, nor thy youth, till the last awful day of judgment."

The king in fear at what the maiden said, which he heard though he could not see her, called aloud to his Druid, Coran by name.

"Oh, Coran of the many spells," he said, "and of the cunning magic, I call upon thy aid. A task is upon me toogreat for all my skill and wit, greater than any laid upon me since I seized the kingship. A maiden unseen has met us, and by her power would take from me my dear, my comely son. If thou help not, he will be taken from thy king by woman's wiles and witchery."

Then Coran the Druid stood forth and chanted his spells towards the spot where the maiden's voice had been heard. And none heard her voice again, nor could Connla see her longer. Only as she vanished before the Druid's mighty spell, she threw an apple to Connla.

For a whole month from that day Connla would take nothing, either to eat or to drink, save only from thatapple. But as he ate it grew again and always kept whole. And all the while there grew within him a mighty yearning and longingafter the maiden he had seen.

But when the last day of the month of waiting came, Connla stood by the side of the king his father on the Plain of Arcomin, and again he saw the maiden come towards him, and again she spoke to him.

"'Tis a glorious place, forsooth, that Connla holds among shortlived mortals awaiting the day of death. Butnow the folk of life, the ever-living ones, beg and bid thee come to Moy Mell, the Plain of Pleasure, for they have learnt to know thee, seeing thee in thy home among thy dear ones.

When Conn the king heard the maiden's voice he called to his men aloud and said:

"Summon swift my Druid Coran, for I see she has again this day the power of speech."

Then the maiden said: "Oh, mighty Conn, fighter of a hundred fights, the Druid's power is little loved; it has little honour in the mighty land, peopled with so many of the upright. When the Law will come, it will do away with the Druid's magic spells that come from the lips of the false black demon."Then Conn the king observed that since the maiden came Connla his son spoke to none that spake to him. So Conn of the hundred fights said to him, "Is it to thy mind what the woman says, my son?"

" 'Tis hard upon me," then said Connla; "I love my own folk above all things; but yet, but yet a longing seizes me for the maiden."

When the maiden heard this, she answered and said: "The ocean is not so strong as the waves of thy longing. Come with me in my curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. Soon we can reach Boadag's realm. I see the bright sun sink, yet far as it is, we can reach it before dark. There is, too, another land worthy of the journey, a land joyous to all that seek it. Only wives and maidens dwell there. If thou wilt, we can seek it and live there alone together in joy."

[4] When the maiden ceased to speak, Connla of the Fiery Hair rushed away from them and sprang into the curragh, the gleaming, straight-gliding crystal canoe. And then they all, king and court, saw it glide away over the bright sea towards the setting sun. Away and away, till eye could see it no longer, and Connla and the Fairy Maiden went their way on the sea, and were no more seen, nor did any know where they came.
•••••
This story and many other Celtic tales may be found at:
The Baldwin Project - Bringing Yesterday's Classics to Today's Children  
http://www.mainlesson.com/display.php?author=jacobs&book=celtic&story=_contents
Other stories included:
Guleesh
The Field of Boliauns
The Horned Women
Conall Yellowclaw
Hudden and Dudden and Donald O'Neary
The Shepherd of Myddvai
The Sprightly Tailor
The Story of Deirdre
Munachar and Manachar
Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree
King O'Toole and His Goose
The Wooing of Olwen
Jack and His Comrades
The Shee an Gannon and the Gruagach Gaire
The Story-Teller at Fault
The Sea-Maiden
A Legend of Knockmany
Fair, Brown, and Trembling
Jack and His Master
Beth Gellert
The Tale of Ivan
Andrew Coffey
The Battle of the Birds
Brewery of Eggshells
The Lad with the Goat-Skin
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B13) The Sea-Maiden
[Source: Celtic Fairy Tales by Joseph Jacobs.]
Excerpt:
HERE was once a poor old fisherman, and one year he was not getting much fish. On a day of days, while he was fishing, there rose a sea-maiden at the side of his boat, and she asked him, "Are you getting much fish?" The old man answered and said, "Not I." "What reward would you give me for sending plenty of fish to you? "Ach!" said the old man, "I have not much to spare." "Will you give me the first son you have?" said she. "I would give ye that, were I to have a son," said he. "Then go home, and remember me when your son is twenty years of age, and you yourself will get plenty of fish after this." Everything happened as the sea-maiden said, and he himself got plenty of fish; but when the end of the twenty years was nearing, the old man was growing more and more sorrowful and heavy hearted, while he counted each day as it came.

He had rest neither day nor night. The son asked his father one day, "Is any one troubling you?" The old [145] man said, "Some one is, but that's nought to do with you nor any one else." The lad said, "I must know what it is." His father told him at last how the matter was with him and the sea-maiden. "Let not that put you in any trouble," said the son; "I will not oppose you." "You shall not; you shall not go, my son, though I never get fish any more." "If you will not let me go with you, go to the smithy, and let the smith make me a great strong sword, and I will go seek my fortune."

His father went to the smithy, and the smith made a doughty sword for him. His father came home with the sword. The lad grasped it and gave it a shake or two, and it flew into a hundred splinters. He asked his father to go to the smithy and get him another sword in which there should be twice as much weight; and so his father did, and so l