Slieve Gullion is the most mystic of Irish mountains, linked with Irish literature through the ‘Chase of Slieve Gullion’. It is associated with many Irish heroes of old, principally Cuchullain – and Cullain the smith to King Conor MacNessa whose name by proxy, the boy Setanta borrowed.
Folklore
Mayflower Dancing
Of course Margaret the Flower was merely exhibiting on our behalf a very ancient Celtic custom. In his History of Creggan (1840) Nelson wrote of these too: this misguided Christian minister however disavowed ancient Irish custom in favour of his own classical training. He was wont to ascribe their origin to the ancient Greek or Roman.
‘On May eve some young persons, male and female, go to gather Mayflowers in the meadow. They carry these home or scatter them about the doors on the same evening. Of the origin of this they know nothing but it may be the remains of the ancient Roman Floralia.
In the neighbouring parish of Louth the figure of a female is made nearly as large as life which is dressed fantastically with flowers, ribbons etc. This image possibly represents Flora the goddess of flowers and some say of fecundity. Around this figure a man and a woman, for the most part his wife dressed in the same way as the figure, dance to the sound of a fiddle, exhibiting themselves in many ridiculous positions and forms, to the great amusement of the general populace.
During all this time the figure is kept moving up and down as if dancing. These exhibitions are usually closed by a collection taken up for the actor and actress who generally act another scene of drunkenness the same evening’.
Pearls & Gold
‘Pearls and gold galore lie in the lake but the devil a one has iver seen them for the dragon won’t iver let a body near them, who has not the rightful blud of the owner in him.
Maybe the Laziness’ll lave ye!
‘Finn was out walking on the top of Slieve Gullion one time when he met a lovely young woman grieving by the lakeside. An’ he said,
‘What’s the bother?’ She pointed into the water.
‘Shure it’s me ring I’ve lost’. Then says he,
‘Don’t worry, I’ll git it if I can’.
An’ in he went but when he reached the bank again, shure he wus oul’ an’ grey. An’ his huntsmen came up an’ sorra a bit of them cud know him, he wus that changed! An’ the lady, she wus the Calliagh Berra, an’ she run away an’ what happened after that I do forgit.
Indeed it’s little I know of the same Calliagh Berra, but many a time when the mist wud be on the mountain above, I heared the oul’ people say till me mother,
‘The Cally has a male in her pot today.’
An’ indeed I often wondered what it might be she was boiling. Many a night I lay awake thinkin’ of it.
Shure it’s the great mountain. The whole world wus on top one day. Swarmin’ all over it they wur. It wus black with them iverywhere. They had tay on the mountain, but I got none. Them that comed from Dublin had all sorts of refreshments ay, oranges an’ iverything. You’d niver believe there wus such a gra’ for our oul’ mountain. Some had bags with sweetbreads in them an’ other things too. Some came be the chapel, an’ some be fut, an’ some be cars. An’ a whole lot come this way an’ more got out at Kinneys.
Me brother went up that day an’ he wus bad with the toothache besides being lame like me. But he cud go an’ he went. An’ he went till the lake for the cure.
‘Troth an’ I’ll go,’ says he, ‘should I die be the way’.
An’ when he returned, says he, ‘I’m cured an’ sound’.
‘Thank God,’ says me mother. A great sympathetic, dacent and charitable woman, the mother.
‘We’ll be done with yer gernin’, she says,
An’ mebbe the laziness will leave ye as well.’
Ye cleared it well, Dan!
‘I don’t mind the fairies [remember] but I do mind Dan Malloy who lived in the house next till the one where the ghost is. He had a sweetheart an’ that wus near till a century ago. An’ till see her he be till cross the river near till the gentry bushes.
An’ many a time he toul’ it hiself, says he, ‘At night I wud be takin’ the short cut till save me legs. An’ the aisyest place till be crossin’ wud be be the thorns. An’ as shure as yer there, six nights out of seven, a voice wud say, ‘Dan, ye cleared it well that time’. An’ I wud say, ‘Och, aye,’ an’ go me way. An’ I always respected the thorns for it’s mortal unlucky till annoy them.
Mebbe your cattle wud bog in a drain or worse. Many a good man went till the bad because of takin’ liberties with them kind of bushes.
Many a time I heard the story’.
Burial Customs
‘On the day of a funeral, a large concourse of people assembles who are plied with spirits, generally two glasses. The corpse is then placed on the bier which is covered with a pall. It is then hoisted on men’s shoulders and they are followed by the keeners who intone alternatively all the way to the burial place. The bearers are relieved frequently by others.
It often happens that if another funeral should appear from a different direction that a scene of competition commences for precedence. Sometimes it turns into strife or riot. In explanation of this custom we have heard it said that when graveyards were not hedged about, it was usual to post a sentinel at night to watch the graves from wild beasts and every other thing to which they might be exposed. (Editor: perhaps the sensibilities of his religious office caused Rev Nelson not to mention the greatest danger from grave-robbers). This office fell to the relatives of those who had been last buried in the cemetery.’ [Nelson, 1840]
Funeral Customs
‘The wakes and funerals of the Irish,’ wrote Rev Nelson in his History of Creggan Parish (1840), ‘are no less interesting. On death the corpse is carefully washed over and, if an adult, dressed in the usual manner. It is placed under board, as it is called, that is, on a long table (often provided by the funeral undertakers who keep one for the purpose) about six foot long and two foot wide but when this cannot be got, two small tables pushed together and draped with a white sheet. The corpse too is covered in a white sheet as is the wall at its head. To the latter are attached great quantities of emblematic pictures of crucifixion, resurrection etc. The table under which the corpse is laid is covered with candlesticks varying in number according to the circumstances and respectability of the deceased. The number is always odd and varies from three to thirteen.
The Rhymers or Keeners, mostly women, are sent for from a considerable distance to perform the funeral rites. Arriving at the house they partake of some refreshment and a glass of whiskey (Are these things different? Ed) then the females are arranged into two divisions, one on each side of the corpse. One of the Keeners then begins her lamentation in Irish, expressing some of either the good or the bad qualities of the deceased, or a number of foolish rhetorical questions such as, ‘Why did you die?’ or ‘Did you not like the world?’ The Keenagh or cry then goes up and all join in. The Rhymers on the other side then begins her lament and is joined in like manner by the rest, the one praising, the other disparaging the corpse.
Mayday
Tomorrow week [I write on Fri 23 April] is Mayday, traditionally one of the chief dates in the Irish calendar of olden customs.
Willy the Wisp
I’ve told you about Geordie-Look-Up and about Jonny-Go-Slap. One of these days I’ll tell you about Johnny-The-Go. But today’s story is about Willie The Wisp.
Now these new-fangled scientists would tell you of a marsh phenomenon known as Will O’ The Wisp where decaying matter gives off methane gas that occasionally catches fire to emit an eerie light. Never listen! It happened this way.