Transcript

Bhí ann fadó agus fadó a bhí. Dá mbeithinnse an uair sin ann ní bheithinn anois ann. Ach mar tá mé tá scéal beag amháin agam. Mar tá sé agamsa inniu go mba seacht míle fearr a bheas sé agatsa amáireach. Nár chaille tú leis ach péire dho na clárfhiaclaí, cúig cinn dho na cúilfhiaclaí agus stiall bhreá dhon charbad.

Bhí Rí in Éirinn fadó. Agus bhí aige triúr mac. Nuair a bhí an mac is óige chúig bhliana déag dh'aois cailleadh an mháthair. Fearacht go leor baintreachaí dá bhfuil insa tír seo inár n-aimsir féin ba mhian leis pósadh aríst. Agus bhí a fhios aige dá mbeadh eolas go rabh sé póstaí cheanaí nach bhfaigheadh sé bean chomh hóg ná chomh saibhir agus ba mhian leis.

Chuir sé an triúr mac ar oileán farraige i bhfad ó bhaile (ar scoil). Agus phós sé (dh'éis) (...) maith. Phós sé bean óg shaibhir. Nuair a bhí siad trí mhí póstaí bhí sí lá breá ag siúl amach lena cuid mná coimhéad. Fuair sí tuisle i bhfianais theach baintrí. Agus dúirt an bhaintreach istigh, "(...) agus (...) thú!"

An dara lá fuaigh sí an bóthar céannaí agus fuair sí tuisle agus bhí an phaidir chéannaí ag an mbaintreach dhaoithe. Fuaigh sí isteach agus d'fhiafraigh sí dhon bhaintreach tuige a rabh an ghuibhe ghránna sin ina béal aici dhaoithe.

"Inseoidh mé é sin duit," a deir an bhaintreach. "Bhí an rí pósta romhatsa. Agus an bhanríon a bhí ann níor fhága sí mise ariamh gan béilí an lae a chur chugam ar maidin. Ó tháinig tusa anseo níor fhiafraigh tú dhaom a rabh béal orm."

"Cén chaoi a bhféadfainn é cúiteamh leat," a deir sí, "an méid caillteanas atá déantaí agam?"

"Ó, ní bheidh sin an-deacair a dhéanamh. Ní iarrfaidh mé ort ach lán mo róipín (cárda)[1] dho chruithneacht, lán mo chíléirín maol dh'im, agus lán mo chaipín cluasach dh'olann."

"Cén chruithneacht a ghabhfadh in do róipín (cárd)?"

"Ghabhfadh cruithneacht na seacht mbliana, seacht gcruach insa (hagard)."

"Cén t-im a ghabhfadh in do chíléirín maol?"

"Im na seacht mbliana agus seacht mbó ar an mbuaile."

"Cén chruithneacht nó olann a ghabhfadh in do chaipín cluasach?"

"Olann na seacht mbliana agus seacht gcéad caora sa mbliain."

D'íoc sí amach í, chuile bhlas dár iarr sí.

"Cén chaoi a bhféadfainn é iallach a chuir ar an rí anois," a deir sí, "an triúr mac a thabhairt ar ais anseo?"

"Gabh abhailí anois," a deir an bhaintreach. "Maraigh sicín agus coinnigh an fhuil i gcupán agus gabh isteach in do leabaidh a chodladh. Nuair a thiocfas an rí isteach," a deir sí, "ól lán do bhéal dhon fhuil agus nuair (a thiocfaidh) sé isteach dhon doras caithe amach an fhuil agus abair leis gur chaith tú amach fuil do chroí. Gur chuala tú go rabh triúr mac aige ar oileán farraige agus go gcaithfeadh sé fios a chur orthu nó go bhfaighfeá bás."

Shéan sé an scéal i dtosach ach an dara huair thug sé ugach go gcuirfeadh sé fios orthu. Chuir sé fios ar an triúr mac. Dúirt an mac is sine go dtiocfadh sé. Dúirt an dara mac go dtiocfadh sé. Agus dúirt a tríothú mac nach dtiocfadh. "Nach bhfuil a fhios agaibh go maith," a deir sé, "go bhfuil ár n-athair póstaí aríst agus nach (scáth) rath ar bith atá ag ár leasmháthair (...)."

Translation

It was long long ago. If I was there that time I would not be here now. But as I am I have one small story. As I have it today may you have it seven thousand times better tomorrow. May you only lose a pair of the incisors by it, five of the grinders and a fine strip of the gum.

There was a King in Ireland long ago. And he had three sons. When the youngest son was fifteen years of age the mother died. Like many widowers who are in this country in our own time he wanted to marry again. And he knew that if it was known that he was married before that he wouldn't get as young or as rich a woman as he wanted.

He sent the three sons to school(?) on a sea island far from home. And he married after a good (...). He married a rich young woman. When they were three months married she was out walking one fine day with her female attendants. She stumbled near a widow's house. And the widow inside said, "(...) and (...) to you!"

The second day she went the same road and she stumbled and the widow had the same prayer for her. She went in and she asked the widow why she had that nasty prayer in her mouth for her.

"I will tell you that," says the widow. "The king was married before you. And the queen who was there never left me without sending me the day's meal in the morning. Since you arrived here you didn't ask me if I had a mouth on me."

"In what way could I repay you the loss I have caused?" she said.

"Oh, that will not be hard to do. I will only ask you for the fill of my little carding rope of oats, the fill of my little flat(?) butter-tub of butter, and the fill of my eared cap of wool."

"How much oats would go into your carding rope?"

"The oats of seven years, seven ricks in the haggard."

"How much butter would go into your flat butter-tub?"

"The butter of seven years and seven cows on the pasturage."

"How much oats or wool would go into you eared cap?"

"The wool of seven years and seven hundred sheep per year."

She gave her everything she asked for.

"Now," she said, "how will I make the king bring the three sons back here?"

"Go home now," said the widow. "Kill a chicken and keep the blood in a cup and go into your bed to sleep. When the king comes in," she said, "drink a mouthful of the blood and when he comes in through the door throw out the blood and tell him that you threw out your heart's blood. That you heard that he had three sons on a sea island and that he must send for them or that you will die."

He denied the story at the start but the second time he indicated that he would send for them. He sent for the three sons. The eldest son said that he would come. The second son said that he would come. And the third son said that he would not come. "Don't you know well," he said, "that our father has married again and that our stepmother has no good fortune (?) (...)."

Footnotes

Commentary

This appears to be the opening section of an international folktale, ATU 953 The robber and his sons. It is a frame tale, where an old robber has to relate three of his most dangerous adventures in order to free his sons from captivity. It is mainly found in northern and western Europe, and has entered the Americas through immigration from these areas. See Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktale: a classification and bibliography (3 vols, Helsinki, 2004). The story is quite popular in Ireland, having been recorded in all four provinces. See Seán Ó Súilleabháin and Rieder Th. Christiansen, The types of the Irish folktale (Helsinki, 1968). The narrative is found in the anonymous book of Irish folktales entitled Royal Hibernian tales (c. 1849). An analysis of this version, along with a detailed list of different versions of the folktale that have appeared in print, can be found in Séamus Ó Duilearga, 'The Royal Hibernian tales', Béaloideas 10 (1940), 148-203: 200. For another example of the story from Irish tradition, see Seán and Donncha Ó Cróinín, Scéalaíocht Amhlaoibh Í Luínse (Dublin, 1971), 367. The opening sequence of the current tale can be found in other Irish versions, which concern a stepmother who sets a difficult and dangerous task for her stepsons, often involving a quest for a magical item or animal. In this regard, it can be seen to be related to another Irish folktale, 'The Quest for the Sword of Light'. See Edmund Curtis, 'Mac Rí Chruacháin', Béaloideas 2:1 (1929), 35-46. Some international folk motifs in the current story include S31 Cruel stepmother and K1945 Imposition by sham sickness. See Stith Thompson, Motif-index of folk literature (rev. and enlarged ed., 6 vols, Bloomington, Ind., 1955-8).