McBride / Sheehan Carlow Folk Tales

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-0-7509-5826-4
Verlag: THP Ireland
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 192 Seiten

County Carlow, where stood Dinn Righ, the seat of the ancient kings of Leinster, is steeped in history, myth and legend which is celebrated in this selection of traditional tales from across the county, collected and retold by local storytellers Aideen McBride and Jack Sheehan. This selection will take you on an oral tour across the county and introduce you to such Carlow characters as Peter Nail, the 'Weight Thrower from Ratheaden'; Beauchamp Bagenal, the 'handsomest man in Ireland'; and St Finnian, the 'Teacher of the Saints'. You will discover how the Barrow River got its name, who threw the standing stone of Clonee, the dangers of digging for gold in the 'raths' and how Teresa Malone became the Heroine of Kilcumney. And on the way you will encounter fairies, witches and giants - as well as bouncing puddings and giant potatoes.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Mcbride, Aideen

Sheehan, Jack

Leseproben

2

LABHRAIDH LOINGSIGH

Once there was a king named Labhraidh Loingsigh. He might have been a good king but he had a secret he didn’t want anyone to find out about. You see Labhraidh Loingsigh had two big hairy horse’s ears. He was ashamed and embarrassed about these two ears and did everything in his power to keep them out of sight from all the world. He let his hair grow long and straggly and unkempt to cover his ears, and wore a brath, or blanket, over his head at all times.

One day his mother came to him and said, ‘Labhraidh, look at the state of you, with your long tangled straggly hair. It’s time you did something about the way you look. It’s time you got your hair cut!’

‘But ma, I can’t,’ replied Labhraidh. ‘If I go and get my hair cut the hairdressers will see my ears and they’ll all be laughing at me.’

‘Suit yourself,’ said his mother, ‘but no king in Europe is going to take you seriously and you looking so untidy and unkempt!’

Well, Labhraidh spent some time reflecting on his situation and after a while he came up with a plan, which he felt would solve his dilemma. He would get the hairdresser to cut his hair and then he would chop off the hairdresser’s head so they couldn’t tell anyone about his ears.

That was Labhraidh’s plan, and whatever you or I might think of it, Labhraidh thought himself very clever to come up with it. And so it happened that twice a year a hairdresser would come to Dinn Righ to cut the king’s hair. They would brush his hair, and comb his hair; they would see the two hairy horse’s ears and say, ‘Oh, Your Majesty, did you know that you have two horse’s ears?’ Labhraidh would say nothing, but when their work was done, they would be taken down to the dungeons and never seen again.

Well, people noticed that the hairdressers were going into the castle, but not coming out again. So, the hairdressers that were left changed their jobs and instead of remaining hairdressers they became bakers and teachers, storytellers and farmers.

Eventually there came the day that there was only one hairdresser left in all of the area, a young man not long since a boy and the only son of a poor widow woman. Now, this widow woman was so old that she couldn’t work for herself any more and the only income she had in the world was the few pennies her son earned from his hairdressing. She was terrified of what would happen if her son were to go into the king’s castle and not return. Where would she get the money to pay the rent? Where would she get the money to buy food? She’d be put out of her home to starve on the side of the road. She had begged her son to change his job, but he wouldn’t. He loved the work he did. Nothing in his life gave him more pleasure than cutting people’s hair.

One day the dreaded letter arrived from the king. He needed a hairdresser and the young man would have to go. His mother went to the castle with him. She came before King Labhraidh Loingsigh and pleaded with him.

‘Oh Your Majesty,’ she said. ‘Please sir, look at me. I am an old woman. I am past the days when I would have worked for myself. All I have in the world are the few pennies my son earns. If he doesn’t return home to me today where will I find the money to pay my rent? I’ll be thrown out of my home on to the side of the road. Where will I find the money to buy food? I’ll die of starvation on the side of the road. Please, please don’t take my son from me.’

Labhraidh Loingsigh looked at the old woman and took pity on her. He promised her that he would release her son home to her once his work had been done.

The young man went to the king’s room and set to work. He brushed the king’s hair, and he combed the king’s hair, then he saw the two horse’s ears.

‘Oh Your Majesty,’ said he. ‘Did you know that you have two horse’s ears?’

The king looked sternly at him. ‘Don’t say a word about my ears to anybody or I’ll have your head chopped off,’ he said.

‘I won’t, I won’t. I promise,’ said the boy and he went on with his work. When he finished, the king released him home to his mother as he had promised.

The widow was delighted to see her son return home and asked all kinds of questions about the castle and the king. The boy described the rooms and hall, and all that he had seen in the castle, and went on to talk about the king.

‘Oh Mam, he has lovely fine hair and I saw his two …’ Just in time, he clapped his hand over his mouth and stopped himself from giving away the secret. He would have to be much more careful in future and mind what he was saying.

The next day the young man found himself in the local village when he bumped into a group of his friends.

‘Hello,’ says they. ‘So, any news for us, anything strange happening these days?’

‘Well lads,’ said the widow’s son, pleased and proud with himself. ‘I was in the king’s castle, so I was, and I was cutting the king’s hair, and I saw his two …’ Just in time again, the boy clapped his hand over his mouth and stopped himself from revealing the king’s secret.

He was so afraid now that he might tell somebody the secret, that he stopped talking. He kept his lips tight and spoke to nobody. At night, he was afraid he might talk in his sleep so he did everything he could think of to keep himself awake. He put nails and pins in his bed, and he pinched himself all night. In the daytime, he was so tired from want of sleep that he couldn’t eat properly. Over time, he got weaker and weaker and poorer and poorer in health till in the end he couldn’t leave his bed.

His mother was concerned and called for the doctor. The doctor checked the boy all over. He listened to his heart, listened to his chest, listened to his back. He looked in his eyes, looked in his ears, looked down his throat. He checked him up and down and finally said:

‘Hmm, I can find nothing wrong with his boy. He hasn’t got measles, mumps or rubella. He hasn’t got cow pox, small pox or chicken pox. He hasn’t got a cough, cold, flu or swine flu. All that’s wrong with him is that he has something he needs to talk about, and he’d want to start talking!’

‘But I promised,’ cried the young man weakly from his bed.

‘Well you don’t have to tell a person,’ replied the doctor. ‘You could tell a horse, or wall, or dog. Just say it out loud!’

So off went the young man to find a place to tell his secret. He wandered down the lane and passed a cow looking over the hedge, but he didn’t fancy telling the cow. He passed a great big granite gate post, but he didn’t fancy telling the gate post. Then he saw ahead of him, in the middle of a field, a little mound on which grew a lone sycamore tree. ‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘this is the place to tell my secret.’

He made his way up to the tree and making sure he was alone he whispered his secret into the tree:

‘Labhraidh Loingsigh has horse’s ears. The king has horse’s ears.’ Immediately, he felt a little better, so he said it again. ‘Labhraidh Loingsigh has horse’s ears. The king has horse’s ears.’

He felt much better, and as he walked home he could feel the spring come back into his step.

Now, it happened that there was a fine musician who lived in those parts, a well-known harpist who was out looking for a piece of wood to make a new harp. And you’ll never guess, but of all the trees he could have chosen he chose a great big branch from that very same sycamore tree to make his new harp. He cut off the branch and took it back to his workshop. He cut it and carved it, sanded it and shaped it, and from it made a beautiful harp. He was just fixing the strings to it and tuning them in when a messenger came to say that the king was having a feast and that he wanted the musician to come and play a few tunes.

‘Very well,’ thought the harpist. ‘I will give the king a special gift.’ And, taking the new harp up under his arm, he made his way to the castle. When he came before the king and all those gathered at the king’s feast, he bowed low, showed the new harp to the king and said, ‘Your Majesty, this is a brand-new harp. I have just finished making it. It has never been played, so as a special gift, I give you the first tune played on the strings of this harp.’

The king was very impressed and the musician sat to play. He ran his fingers over the strings of the harp, but … oh … that harp didn’t play ordinary music. No. That harp began to sing and it sang out:

‘Labhraidh Loingsigh has horse’s ears. The king has horse’s ears.’

The king was shocked. The court was shocked. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Labhraidh. Labhraidh didn’t know what to do or where to look, but in the end he decided to do what is always the best thing to do in these circumstances and that is – to tell the truth. He stood up, took off the brat he wore over his head and let up his two horse’s ears.

‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I have two horse’s ears, and I suppose now you think I’m not good enough to be your king, hmph!’

One of the men at the feast stood up.

‘Your Majesty,’ he said. ‘We don’t care about your ears. Look at me,’ and this man had the biggest nose you can imagine. Not only was it a big nose but it was covered in every type of wart, spot and pimple. It was an awful ugly looking thing. ‘Look at my nose,’ he continued. ‘It’s an awful ugly nose but that doesn’t bother my friends, because they know it’s not how you look on the outside that is important, but how you are on the inside. If you’re good and kind and fair that’s...