THE DEMON CAT

(by Lady Wilde)

THERE was a woman in Connemara, the wife of a fisherman; as he had always

good luck, she had plenty of fish at all times stored away in the house ready for
market. But, to her great annoyance, she found that a great cat used to come in at
night and devour all the best and finest fish. So she kept a big stick by her, and
determined to watch.

One day, as she and a woman were spinning together, the house suddenly became
quite dark; and the door was burst open as if by the blast of the tempest, when in
walked a huge black cat, who went straight up to the fire, then turned round and
growled at them.

"Why, surely this is the devil," said a young girl, who was by, sorting fish.

"I'll teach you how to call me names," said the cat; and, jumping at her, he scratched
her arm till the blood came. "There, now," he said, "you will be more civil another
time when a gentleman comes to see you." And with that he walked over to the door
and shut it close, to prevent any of them going out, for the poor young girl, while
crying loudly from fright and pain, had made a desperate rush to get away.

Just then a man was going by, and hearing the cries, he pushed open the door and
tried to get in; but the cat stood on the threshold, and would let no one pass. On this
the man attacked him with his stick, and gave him a sound blow; the cat, however,
was more than a match in the fight, for it flew at him and tore his face and hands so
badly that the man at last took to his heels and ran away as fast as he could.

"Now, it's time for my dinner," said the cat, going up to examine the fish that was laid
out on the tables. "I hope the fish is good today. Now, don't disturb me, nor make a
fuss; I can help myself." With that he jumped up, and began to devour all the best
fish, while he growled at the woman.

"Away, out of this, you wicked beast," she cried, giving it a blow with the tongs that
would have broken its back only it was a devil; "out of this, no fish you have today."

But the cat only grinned at her, and went on tearing and spoiling and devouring the
fish, evidently not a bit the worse for the blow. On this, both the women attacked it
with sticks, and struck hard blows enough to kill it, on which the cat glared at them,
and spit fire; then, making a leap, it tore their heads and arms till the blood came,
and the frightened women rushed shrieking from the house.

But presently the mistress returned, carrying with her a bottle of holy water; and,
looking in, she saw the cat still devouring the fish, and not minding. So she crept
over quietly and threw holy water on it without a word. No sooner was this done than
a dense black smoke filled the place, through which nothing was seen but the two
red eyes of the cat, burning like coals of fire. Then the smoke gradually cleared
away, and she saw the body of the creature burning slowly till it became shrivelled
and black like a cinder, and finally disappeared. And from that time the fish remained
untouched and safe from harm, for the power of the evil one was broken, and the
demon cat was seen no more.

(Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry”. Edited and Selected by W. B.
Yeats)

THE COUNTESS KATHLEEN O'SHEA

A very long time ago, there suddenly appeared in old Ireland two unknown
merchants of whom nobody had ever heard, and who nevertheless spoke the
language of the country with the greatest perfection. Their locks wore black, and
bound round with gold, and their garments were of rare magnificence.

Both seemed of like age; they appeared to be men of fifty, for their foreheads were
wrinkled and their beards tinged with grey.

In the hostelry where the pompous traders alighted it was sought to penetrate their
designs; but in vain--they led a silent and retired life. And whilst they stopped there,
they did nothing but count over and over again out of their money-bags pieces of
gold, whose yellow brightness could be seen through the windows of their lodging.

"Gentlemen," said the landlady one day, "how is it that you are so rich, and that,
being able to succour the public misery, you do no good works?"

"Fair hostess," replied one of them, "we didn't like to present alms to the honest poor,
in dread we might be deceived by make-believe paupers. Let want knock at our door,
we shall open it."

The following day, when the rumour spread that two rich strangers had come, ready
to lavish their gold, a crowd besieged their dwelling; but the figures of those who
came out were widely different. Some carried pride in their mien; others were
shamefaced.
The two chapmen traded in souls for the demon. The souls of the aged was worth
twenty pieces of gold, not a penny more; for Satan had had time to make his
valuation. The soul of a matron was valued at fifty, when she was handsome, and a
hundred when she was ugly. The soul of a young maiden fetched an extravagant
sum; the freshest and purest flowers are the dearest.

At that time there lived in the city an angel of beauty the Countess Kathleen O'Shea.
She was the idol of the people and the providence of the indigent. As soon as she
learned that these miscreants profited to the public misery to steal away hearts from
God, she called to her butler.

"Patrick," said she to him, "how many pieces of gold in my coffers?"

"A hundred thousand."

"How many jewels?"

"The money's worth of gold."

"How much property in castles, forests, and lands?"

"Double the rest."

"Very well, Patrick; sell all that is not gold; and bring me the account. I only wish to
keep this mansion and the demesne that surrounds it."

Two days afterwards the orders of the pious Kathleen were executed, and the
treasure was distributed to the poor in proportion to their wants. This, says the
tradition, did not suit the purposes of the Evil Spirit, who found no more souls to
purchase. Aided by an infamous servant, they penetrated into the retreat of the noble
dame, and purloined from her the rest of her treasure. In vain she struggled with all
her strength to save the contents of her coffers; the diabolical thieves were the
stronger. If Kathleen had been able to make the sign of the Cross, adds the legend,
she would have put them to flight, but her hands were captive. The larceny was
effected.

Then the poor called for aid to the plundered Kathleen, alas, to no good: she was
able to succour their misery no longer; she had to abandon them to the temptation.

Meanwhile, but eight days had to pass before the grain and provender would arrive
in abundance from the western lands. Eight such days were an age. Eight days
required an immense sum to relieve the exigencies of the dearth, and the poor
should either perish in the agonies of hunger, or, denying the holy maxims of the
Gospel, vend, for base lucre, their souls, the richest gift from the bounteous hand of
the Almighty. And Kathleen hadn't anything, for she had given up her mansion to the
unhappy. She passed twelve hours in tears and mourning, rending her sun-tinted
hair, and bruising her breast, of the whiteness of the lily; afterwards she stood up,
resolute, animated by a vivid sentiment of despair.

She went to the traders in souls.

"What do you want?" they said.

"You buy souls?"

"Yes, a few still, in spite of you. Isn't that so, saint, with the eyes of sapphire?"

"Today I am come to offer you a bargain," replied she.

"What?"

"I have a soul to sell, but it is costly."

"What does that signify if it is precious? The soul, like the diamond, is appraised by
its transparency."

"It is mine."

The two emissaries of Satan started. Their claws were clutched under their gloves of
leather; their grey eyes sparkled; the soul, pure, spotless, virginal of Kathleen--it was
a priceless acquisition!

"Beauteous lady, how much do you ask?"

"A hundred and fifty thousand pieces of gold."

"It's at your service," replied the traders, and they tendered Kathleen a parchment
sealed with black, which she signed with a shudder.

The sum was counted out to her.

As soon as she got home she said to the butler, "Here distribute this: with this money
that I give you the poor can tide over the eight days that remain, and not one of their
souls will be delivered to the demon."

Afterwards she shut herself up in her room, and gave orders that none should disturb
her.

Three days passed; she called nobody, she did not come out.

When the door was opened, they found her cold and stiff; she was dead of grief.

But the sale of this soul, so adorable in its charity, was declared null by the Lord; for
she had saved her fellow-citizens from eternal death.
After the eight days had passed, numerous vessels brought into famished Ireland
immense provisions in grain. Hunger was no longer possible. As to the traders, they
disappeared from their hotel without anyone knowing what became of them. But the
fishermen of the Blackwater pretend that they are enchained in a subterranean
prison by order of Lucifer, until they shall be able to render up the soul of Kathleen,
which escaped from them.

(Fairy and Folk Tales of the Irish Peasantry”. Edited and Selected by W. B.
Yeats)

MOLLY MALONE
(Sinead O´Connor)

In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty

I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!

Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder

For so were her father and mother before
And they both wheeled their barrows through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

She died of a fever and no one could save her

And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
Now her ghost wheels her barrow through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!

A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!

Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!
A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!