Stories,....Give it a go!!!

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Comment by Harris Tobias on June 3, 2014 at 14:47


Listen ye now to a story
 The history of Clan Mac Aroon
 Tis a tale to set brave hearts a tremble
 And cause many a faint heart to swoon

 The English were thick in the Highlands
 Each with a sword neath his goon
 They were searching the moor and the heather
 For the King's diamond crusted spittoon
 But they needn't ah looked any further
 Twas in the hands of the Clans Mac Aroon

 The fight that ensued was ferocious
 With many a fine lad laid doon
 And though the bagpipes were playin atrocious
 It made the British just wonna gae hoom
 They were stubborn and bent on destruction
 And they fought to the last Mac Aroon

 When the dust and the smoke had all  settled
 And the battle was over and doon
 There was naught but a pile of rubble
 Where the Mac Aroon castle had boon
 But the English went home empty handed
 For although the battle they woon
 They never more saw the King's cuspidor
 Nor slew they the last Mac Aroon

 So we sing and we drink our proud fellows
 Whose brave sons were laid in their tomb
 For they fought and they died
 On the wide Firth of Clyde
 just to spit in an English spittoon
 The gloroius Clan Mac Aroon

Comment by Kees Knegt on July 2, 2013 at 22:01

Read by Ronnie Drew, this is one of the great stories of Ireland  :


Comment by Kathleen O'Sullivan Billy Teare on June 23, 2013 at 23:36
'The ChiLdren of Lir' a wonderful story, also told in our book of folk tales, with its mention of the expanse of water, some 12 - 14 miles between Antrim and Scotland, known as The Straits, or Sea of Moyle, along with Deirdre of the Sorrows, linked to the rock at Ballycastle known as Carraig Usnach.
There has been physical evidence of the impact of The Children of Lir in more modern times, in the now defunct wind turbines that were built in the early nineties on Rathlin Island, to provide some of the Island's electricity and which were named Aed, Con and Fiacra, after the three sons of Lir, from the tragic story.
Comment by Kees Knegt on June 23, 2013 at 21:36

Here's another great story, told by the late and great Ronnie Drew. 

The Children of Lir

Comment by Kathleen O'Sullivan Billy Teare on June 20, 2013 at 21:11
We have included a version of 'Deirdre . . .' In the book and on our website, there is a link with Billy and myself doing 'The Stolen Child.' :-) Eddie is a great man. It is quite a while since we last worked with him.
Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on June 20, 2013 at 11:40

The Four Treasures of the Tuatha De Dannan

When the Tuatha De Dannan conquered Britain and came to Ireland they brought with them Four Sacred Objects, that represented the Four Balancing Elements. The Stone of Fal rests in the Northern Point; The Invincible Spear of Lugh stands in the East; The Sword of Nuada pierces the Southern Point; and from the mythical city of  Murias, the Inexhaustible Cauldron of  Dagda rests in the West. Of these four, the Cauldron was the possession of  the Great Father, Dagda,...named for his bravery and physical ability. It is said he owned a great club that killed with one end and revived the dead with the other. In the battle of Mag Tured he killed the Fomorians,...beings associated with the forces of nature that posed challenges to humankind. Dagda also had a spear, that when dragged across the ground formed a deep ditch in the Earth. It is said that Dagda, Lugh and Ogmios came upon the Fomorian camp with the intent of rescuing his harper. Dagda saw his harp hanging on a wall, and calling to it, the harp flew into his hand. He then played the Three Strains - the Strain of Sorrow, the Strain of Laughter and the Strain of Sleep, which put the Fomorians into the deepest of sleeps. Dagda, Lugh and Ogmios then proceeded from the camp without challenge and unnoticed.

From pre-christian Celtic Mythology

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on June 17, 2013 at 11:11

Hey Kees!!! I knew if you joined this group you wouldn't fail to provide stimulating and fun stuff.  "Deidre of the Sorrows" is one such submission. Well done,....keep 'em coming!!! Cheers,


Comment by Kees Knegt on June 15, 2013 at 18:46

I have uploaded "Deirdre of the Sorrows" a lovely Irish legend, on to youtube. It is read by Ronnie Drew, and is part of a series of CD's that were originally released by the Irish Sunday Times I believe...

I have some more, and if you lot like it I may upload the other ones as well

Deirdre of the Sorrows

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on June 15, 2013 at 13:12

W. B. Yeats has, for years, been one of my favorites. Here for your enjoyment is "The Stolen Child", a poem mentioning places around Sligo.

The Stolen Child

Where dips the rocky highland

     Of  Sleuth W0od in the lake,

There lies a leafy island

     Where flapping herons wake

The drowsy water rats.

There we've hid our fairy vats

Full of berries,

And of reddest stolen cherries.

Come away, O, human child !

To the woods and waters wild,

With a fairy hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than

     you can understand.


Where the wave of moonlight glosses

     The dim grey sands with light,

Far of by furthest Rosses

     We foot it all the night,

Weaving olden dances,

Mingling hands, and mingling glances,

     Till the moon has taken flight;

To and fro we leap,

     And chase the frothy bubbles,

     While the world is full of troubles.

And is anxious in its sleep.

Come away ! O, human child !

To the woods and waters wild,

With a fairy hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than

     you can understand.


Where the wandering water gushes

     From the hills above Glen-Car,

In pools among the rushes,

     That scarce could bathe a star,

We seek the slumbering trout,

     And whispering in their ears;

          We give them evil dreams,

Leaning softly out

     From ferns that drop their tears

          Of dew on the young streams.

Come ! O, human child !

To the woods and waters wild,

With a fairy hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than

     you can understand.


Away with us, he's going,

     the solemn eyed;

He'll hear no more the lowing

     Of the calves on the warm hill-side.

Or the kettle on the hob

     Sing peace into his breast;

Or see the brown mice bob

     Round and round the oatmeal chest.

For he comes, the human child,

To the woods and waters wild,

With a fairy hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than

     he can understand.

Comment by Dhomhnaill A. Lopez on June 13, 2013 at 11:37

Back in 2007 when in Ireland, I purchased a book that has become a favorite of mine: "Meeting The Other Crowd" by Eddie Lenihan. It is a collection of Fairy stories about "the Good People", collected from oral sources from various parts of Ireland. In order to comply with the publishers right of not copying their property, I'll give the gist of the story in my own words. For the original writing check the book.

A Musician's Story

There was a man that used to go out at night. One night, he heard the music of a violin. He himself was an accomplished fiddler which he asscociated with the Wee Folk. He was asked, " Did you ever come back with a tune from it?"

"Hard to believe me, but whenever I would listen to music anywhere I would always be able take some of it with me,....but I could never bring back any of the fairy music."

"You mean to tell me that you could never even get a note of the music on your fiddle?"

"No,...not even one note at all."

Now this man was a musician of great talent,...he could read it or play it in one hearing.

"No,...the music was not real, in a sense. T'was full of wind, and was like a tangled briar patch."

It was easy to understand that he, or anyone else that heard that music of the night were never able to fully recall or repeat it's sound or melody. The Fairy Music is something that could never have a bonding to it. Any musician that hears it can never take it with them.

This story is unusual since there are many stories of folk bringing back Fairy Music across the twilight of their world and ours. It's explained that if the "Good People" give it freely, as a reward for good treatment or a favour done, then a person would be able to bring it back from the Fairy World.

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