by Steve Lally
But auld Terry persevered and he burnt the furze and made walls with the stones. He built a lovely little house on the hill so that no one would be looking down their noses at him. Well the time came when Terry decided he was in a good place to find himself a wife and not long after this noble decision he met Judy O’Donoghue, who had for a dowry a canopy settle bed, four rush-bottomed chairs, a collop of sheep, five pigs and a maol cow.
Everything was going very well for a good while, until Terry noticed although his family were growing in size his livestock were decreasing gradually, with one misfortune after another.
His horse had died of the ‘grip’, his sheep of the ‘gid’ and now his pigs had succumbed to the ‘measles’. But despite all this misfortune Terry tried to make the best of what he had. He figured that there was nothing he could do about the animals dying and he was thankful that they had been spared their cow and they would keep in plentiful supply of milk, cheese and butter.
But it was not long after this that the poor auld cow took a fall and that was the end of it.
‘Were ruined for sure,’ says Terry. ‘Shur the children themselves will starve and die without the sup of milk and Judy will have me killed with her scolding for putting the cow in such a high and rocky place in The Horse’s Glen.’ Well with a heavy heart he decided to skin the cow and maybe make something from its hide. ‘Shur ’tis better to have somethin’ other than nothin’ and the meat won’t go to waste neither.’ Poor auld Terry was an optimistic soul and always tried to see the positive in everything. But when he went to get the cow he found it in a mangled heap at the foot of the hill. ‘Oh be the Tear O’ War!’ he cried. It seemed as though the poor man’s world was falling apart before his very eyes. He wondered why on earth was such misfortune being bestowed upon him?
Well he did his best to skin the hide, what was left of it anyway. As he worked he never noticed how quickly the time passed and he was surprised by the terrible darkness around him. To make things worse, a great and powerful wind came howling over the glen from the lake below. Terry realised that this was no ordinary wind but a Si Gaoithe, a fairy wind.
He remembered all the tales he was told as a child about the fairies, the banshee and the pooka. He was full of fear and his heart was in his mouth. He threw the hide over his shoulder and pulled a tuft of grass to clean his knife. And with the fear and confusion of it all, he shoved the grass along with the knife into his pocket and ran for home.
Now anyone who knows anything will know that a four-leafed shamrock allows people to see all sorts of enchantments and one happened to be in the tuft of grass. So when Terry turned to look at the carcass of the cow he was shocked and horrified to see not the remains of the beast but a fairy sitting bolt upright and he looked as if he had been flayed alive.
And if this was not terrifying enough, poor Terry was ready to drop dead with the fright when he heard the wee crathur speak to him.
‘Terry Casey, you spalpeen (poor farmer or hired worker),’ he cried. ‘You’d better come back with my skin. ’Tis a queer pass when a gentleman can’t have a sleep without an omadhaun (fool) like you taking the hide off of him. Bring it back or ’twill be worse for ya!’
Although Terry was very scared, he began to muster up a bit of courage. It was clear now that the Good People or fairy folk had taken his cow and he hoped he might be able to get her back. And if the worst came to the worst, he thought he could defend himself with his black-handled knife, for whoever has come into contact with the fairies will always tell you that iron or steel will always break their enchantments. So he gripped the knife in his pocket and addressed the fairy.
‘Well sir,’ he said, trying to look and sound as brave as he could. ‘If this is what you want,’ he held up the hide, ‘then you must know that ’tis the skin of me auld maol cow that died up on hill there yonder, and better a beast never walked on four legs. I’ll never see the likes of her again, but there’s no use in talking, so there’s no use in talkin’; good luck now your honour!’ and with that Terry turned on his heel and began to depart.
‘Well now, do you think you can just saunter off like that?’ roared the fairy, who was most annoyed by Terry’s insolence. The wee man jumped up before him with the speed and agility of a greyhound. ‘Drop my skin, or you will sup sorrow!’ shouted the fairy.
‘I’ll do no such thing ya little ferret!’ exclaimed Terry, producing his black-handled knife.
‘You’ll never put a hand on it till ya give me back my maol cow.’
‘Take it easy now sir,’ said the fairy, who was starting to get a bit worried now when he saw the knife. ‘Shur maybe I’ll befriend you Terry Casey, for I’ve taken a fierce liking to ya; give me the skin now and I will be able to get the cow back to ya.’
‘Well thank you kindly sir,’ says Terry, with a sly wink. ‘But you must give me my cow back first.’
‘Well there she is now for you!’ cried the fairy. Hearing a cow lowing, Terry wheeled about and lo and behold there was his maol cow running towards him with a spancel (tether) hanging from one of her legs.
So Terry threw the hide to the fairy and was about to head away with his cow when all of a sudden the fairy jumped with fierce agility right before him.
‘Have the good manners to leave back me my spancel!’ he ordered angrily.
‘I’ll do nothing of the sort,’ shouted Terry, as he drove the cow along, holding the knife firmly in his grip.
‘Give me the tuft of grass in your pocket so!’ pleaded the fairy, and only then did Terry remember that he had it at all. ‘Be Jeepers you may have that and you’re welcome to it,’ replied Terry. But no sooner had he handed the wee man the tuft of grass than the enchanted creature disappeared before his eyes. Terry got such a fright, he fell to the ground. It was midnight before Terry came to his senses, and he found that he was back on his farm with his cow grazing away happily next to him, the spancel still hanging from her leg. And it turned out to be a powerful lucky charm, for that day onward his cow gave more milk than any six cows in the parish and his good fortune increased.
For he became a wealthy and respected man, through selling the sweet milk, butter and cheese that his cow produced. But even with all his wealth and prosperity, Terry Casey never dared go near The Horse’s Glen again…
Co. Limerick: From the Irish Luimneach, meaning ‘The flat area or barren spot of land’. Limerick is a great county rich in history, culture and stories; it has some of the finest fairy folklore in the country. Cnoc Áine, or the Hill of Áine in Co. Limerick, is the home of Áine the Queen of the Munster Fairies. To the Celts the cairn on the summit was her palace and the entrance to the Otherworld. Cnoc Fírinne is traditionally known the ‘Hill of Truth’. It is said to personify Donn Fírinne: in Celtic mythology he is the God of Death and Fertility. In folklore he is seen as a Giant or the King of the Munster Fairies. He is said to live at the bottom of a deep hole in the hillside and it is said that anyone who dares come near this entrance will never be seen again. It was believed that thunderstorms were caused by Donn Fírinne riding his horse through the sky, and if clouds were over the hill it meant that he was gathering them together to make rain. Kevin Danaher (1913–2002), the prominent Irish folklorist, was born in Athea, Co. Limerick.
DANNO AND THE DEVIL (CO. LIMERICK)
By James Patrick Ryan
My Nana Browne (née Welsh) was born in the very early 1920s in a place called Killalee in Garryowen in Limerick City. Killalee was populated by people who worked all kinds of jobs in Limerick city. Killalee was a very old estate of houses that had been built in the 1900s. My Nana always spoke so lovingly of the place and the great people who lived there.
Nana had once told me that her mother often met the dead neighbours late at night in Killalee as she hung out her washing. These dead were praying so they could leave purgatory and enter heaven. They never did anything but walk up and down the small streets whispering prayers to themselves.
Nana was from a large fa
mily and in those days when you could read and write you were sent out into the world to find work. She got her first job at the age of 11 in Spillanes Tabacco factory in what is now Sarsfield Street. She stayed in that job well into her teens and made many lifetime friends there.
One night in her middle teens she was walking home from work with a friend of hers called Frannie Doyle on a dreary wintry evening. It was past 11 o’clock and it was pitch dark. As usual they were joking and gossiping about the day when they passed a small field not far from Killalee. ‘Hello Maggie Browne and Frannie Doyle,’ said a voice out of the darkness.
The two young women were startled and looked around to find where the voice was coming from. ‘I’m here’ said the voice. The two of them looked into the field and saw a very old woman sitting on a tree stump. That tree stump had always been avoided by the locals as it was a bad luck place, they said. Her hair was undone and fell down her shoulders. She had a winter coat on for the night was cold. They both recognised the woman immediately.
‘Mammy Delahunty! What are you doing inside in that field?’ the girls asked the woman. Mammy Delahunty was the oldest woman in Killalee; in fact, both girls thought she was the oldest woman in the world. Though her age was great, Mammy Delahunty was a very active woman well into her nineties. She was a caring woman who considered every child in Killalee her own. She was still looking after grandchildren and great-grandchildren at that time. Mammy also had what locals said was the ‘cure’. Instead of finding a doctor for various ailments, Mammy was consulted and advised the best course of action. She was known to be able to cure anything, from the gout to whooping cough. Her advice was given freely but come Christmas every year all the locals would drop off something to Mammy’s house by way of a thank you. Those presents never stayed long in her house and were distributed wherever they were needed.
‘I got up this morning and no one was talking to me,’ said the old woman. ‘I shouted at the lot of them but they all ignored me so I put on my winter coat and walked out the door.’ The woman explained she walked the streets of Limerick all day but was ignored by everyone she knew. Even in the shops no one said hello or bid her good morning. This really upset the woman and she said she believed she must have done wrong to someone so now everyone had decided to ignore her.
The two young women were very sympathetic to the old woman’s plight and wanted to help her. They decided they would bring the woman home and confront her family who had so cruelly ignored her. ‘C’mon,’ my Nana said, taking the woman by the arm and her friend took the other.
‘Oh no no no no,’ said a voice from behind the woman. This was a voice they had never heard before. It was loud and sharp and it frightened both the girls so much they let go of the woman, who sat back down on the tree stump. A very tall boney man in a shirt and waistcoat emerged from the darkness.
‘This is Danno,’ said the old woman. ‘He is the only person who has spoken to me all day long.’
‘Yes,’ said Danno. ‘I am looking after Mrs Delahunty now.’
My grandmother was very nervous of this man. There was something about him that was just a little peculiar but she had to be brave. ‘I think Mammy Delahunty needs to come home to Killalee with us.’
‘Danno says he will look after me,’ said the old woman.
‘YES I WILL LOOK AFTER THE OLD WOMAN. HER FAMILY DO NOT WANT HER,’ Danno said very loudly.
The old woman told the girls that Danno was going to take her to a nice place where everyone would know her and they would all look after her.
‘What’s the name of that place?’ asked Frannie to the boney man.
‘It’s not for girls like ye to know,’ said the man.
‘Ya Danno said it’s a very nice place for me to rest, isn’t that right Danno?’ said the old woman to Danno.
‘It’s a fine place Mrs Delahunty, great weather, great people not a soul could deny it’s a great place to live,’ said Danno, sounding very nice to the old woman.
‘Soul’ thought my grandmother to herself. ‘He wants her soul,’ said Nana to her friend.
‘Are you the Devil?’ asked my grandmother to Danno.
‘The Devil she calls me,’ said Danno to the old woman.
‘You are not the Devil are you?’ Mrs Delahunty asked Danno.
‘Ha ha ha I am not the Devil, I am one of the Good People and I need a new recruit – and a woman as smart as Mrs Delahunty is the best candidate I have found in ages. Now be on yer way because come 12 midnight she will join the ranks of the women of the Good People.’
All three women knew exactly what Danno was speaking of. Mrs Delahunty would be a banshee by 12 midnight. Frannie looked at her watch and whispered, ‘fifteen minutes away from 12.’
‘Please don’t take this old woman,’ said my Nana to Danno.
‘Ye never understand our kind do ye?’ said Danno. ‘I have to take a soul of a human, I need to pay tribute.’ Danno explained that he had to take an old woman every so often to keep the Devil happy. ‘We never mess with the Devil and when he needs a new banshee then one is delivered to him,’ said Danno. ‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, ‘she won’t be in hell with the Devil, she will only be working for him.’ Danno put his large hands on Mrs Delahunty’s shoulders to stop her leaving as the old woman began to cry quietly. ‘Just stay sitting there now Mrs. It will all be over very soon.’
That was when my Nana realised that if Mammy stayed sitting on that stump she would pass into the employ of the Devil within a few minutes. Nana looked at her young friend and they both agreed without speaking that they would fight for the soul of Mammy Delahunty. Both girls lunged at the arms of Danno and tried to pry him loose of the old lady. His arms were like concrete and would not budge. They switched to try to move his hands and fingers but there was no movement either. ‘Pinch him,’ said Frannie to my Nana and this finally made Danno screech with pain as the girls gave him the worst pinches visited on anyone. Danno let go of the old woman with the pain in his hands but grabbed my Nana and her friend by their throats with each of his big hands. ‘You will all come with me tonight!’ shouted Danno.
The bells of St Johns cathedral began to chime 12 o’clock and my Nana and her friend knew they were too late. They would be taken to hell to please the Devil along with Mrs Delahunty. All of a sudden, the grip on their throats was gone and Danno had his hands at his sides. From behind them a sweet voice spoke.
‘Danno unhand those children and that old lady.’
The girls turned around to see a small beautiful woman wearing summery clothes of a light green colour surrounded by a bright light.
‘The Devil needs his due,’ shouted Danno at the bright lady.
‘He will get his due,’ said the woman but he won’t take the soul of sweet Mrs Delahunty or two harmless young girls,’ she told him firmly. ‘Children, Danno would like to apologise for his actions,’ she said softly. The very tall man had his face firmly fixed on the ground as he whispered his apologies. With that Danno was gone.
My Nana and her friend helped the old woman to her feet. ‘We are taking you home,’ Frannie told the old woman. Both girls took her by the arm and Mrs Delahunty smiled a very wide smile. ‘I’m going home,’ said Mammy Delahunty and she disappeared from their arms.
‘Oh no!’ shouted my Nana, ‘They have taken her after all.’
‘No,’ said the young woman to the girls. ‘She has gone to a better place. You won’t find Mrs Delahunty walking the streets of Killalee at night either. She was pure goodness and there is only one place for her. Run home now girls as the hour is late.’
My Nana and her friend waved goodbye to the woman who had rescued them and ran all the way to Killalee. When they arrived, there were lots of people on the streets. My Nana saw her mother and asked her what the commotion was for.
‘Mrs Delahunty passed away this morning,’ her mother told her. ‘She is laid out in her house – go in and pay your respects’.
Both girls walked up to the door
of Mammy’s house and pushed their way through the crowds. There were many sad faces in the hallway but the people around her coffin didn’t seem as sad. My Nana nudged her way to the open coffin and looked in. Mrs Delahunty, though very old, was radiant in her funeral garb and had a big wide smile on her face. A happier corpse was never seen before or since.
Co. Tipperary: From the Irish Thiobraid Áran, meaning ‘The Well of the Arra’. Co. Tipperary has a wealth of folklore and mythology, as it is home to ‘The Rock of Cashel’, the seat to the Kings of Munster. Bridget Cleary (1869–1895) from Ballyvadlea, Co. Tipperary was burned to death by her husband Michael Cleary because he believed she was in fact a changeling left behind by the fairies. Slievenamon, from the Irish Sliabh na mBan, meaning ‘Mountain of the Women’, is a mountain in Co. Tipperary where Fionn Mac Cumhail was seduced by many women, but he could only take one partner. The mountain also appears in the folktale ‘The Horned Women’, which can be found in Joseph Jacobs’ 1892 collection Celtic Fairy Tales. Tipperary is also where the famous folktale ‘The Legend of Knockgrafton’ took place, the story of the lovable Hunchback ‘Lusmore’ who meets the fairies.
SHAMAN OR CHARLATAN (CO. TIPPERARY)
We were delighted to get these wonderful and frightening stories from Simon Young, the folklore historian and the man currently behind The Fairy Investigation Society (www.fairyist.com). This society was founded in Britain in 1927 by Captain Sir Quentin C.A. Craufurd, MBE and the artist Bernard Sleigh to collect information on fairy sightings. Young says the only credential required to join the society is a genuine belief in fairies.
