A chara,

I hope you are all set for Thanksgiving if you are celebrating it.

If you are sitting down to a nice family dinner this week and have an old generational Irish castle in your family tree somewhere, you might like this family story and turkey recipe. Or if you came from simpler dwellings like my mother’s side of the family, the simple potato stuffed with potato “luxury” dish might be closer to the heart strings. Or maybe you know very little. Now would be a great time to try and look for some of those story threads.

This week I wanted to share an old personal family story with you in the hopes that it might help you consider your own family heritage stories in a different light and help you pass them on the next generation.

Jim’s Dad’s Story

During WW1 my great grandfather O'Kane was a young man working on the family sheep farm with his brother just outside of Dungiven, Derry in Northern Ireland. One night they saw a strange light on top of Benbradagh mountain. They decided to investigate but couldn't leave the farm until their only day off, Sunday, which was almost a week away. They didn't have a car or a horse and it would take half a day to walk to the top of the mountain and half a day to walk back again but they were determined.

That Sunday they set out early to the summit of Benbradagh and when they finally got there, they were alarmed at what they found. A German WW1 plane had gotten lost in the fog during the London blitz and had crash landed on the mountain. The two pilots within were trapped and had died. Enemy or not, my great granddad and his brother were incredibly upset because it was obvious to them that the first pilot died immediately on impact and that the second had lived for a few days. At this point in the story my aunt, or uncle or whomever is telling it, always stops to ask us, how the brothers might have known that one pilot passed away immediately and the other passed away a few days later? Today I ask my children this question, but I add on a second question.

The answer to the first question is that both brothers suddenly realized that the first pilot must have died on impact because he was closely shaved, while the second pilot had died within the last 24 hours as he had almost a weeks’ worth of stubble growing on his face. They were distraught when they realized that if they left the farm on the first night, they might have saved him before he died of exposure, thirst and his injuries.

I love this story because his son, my granddad Jim, learned from his father to never hate anyone and to live your life in peace, while always helping others. Even after his family's generational ancestral home was destroyed in the Ulster plantation and his ancestors who were once Irish kings became shepherds.

Included is a picture of Dungiven castle which was built in the 17th century upon the ruins of the family O'Cahan's ancestral castle which they had to pass on this journey.

And the second question I ask my children when I tell this story is what they think the lesson is? The answer surely is compassion.

Sometimes I like to share Irish castle and cottage recipes alongside each other to show us both a glimpse of our ancestors lives.

This 1746 old Irish recipe for soused turkey by Sara Powers is written in her own words. “Boyl” means to boil, by the way. I have also included a Christmas “luxury” potato recipe that would have been eaten by the poorest of the poor. Cheese was a luxury afforded to only those who had a cow and could afford to make and keep cheese at home. You see, cheese was most often made to sell, in order to bring in additional family income.

Many Irish still make potato stuffing for Christmas but this recipe may have been the main meal for many families who were wealthy enough to stretch to keeping a little cream and cheese for Christmas.

Soused Turkey, written by Sara Powers, 1746

Ingredients:

• 1 turkey, one year old

• 4 nutmegs

• Mace (amount to your liking)

• Cinnamon (amount to your liking)

• Salt and pepper

• 150g of butter

• 1 pint of white wine

• 1 lemon rind

“Get a fat turkey, of a year old, kill and hang him up for two or three days, then take out the bones, and get four nutmegs and the like quantity of mace, some beaten pepper, cinnamon and salt enough to season it. Put all these in the body of the turkey and a good piece of butter; boyl in half a pint of white wine and half a pint of water, with the rind of the lemon.”

(Boyl means boil today).

Stuffed Baked Potatoes – Prátaí líonta agus bácáilte

Ingredients:

• 4 large potatoes

• 3 fried rashers or leftover cooked ham (bacon)

• 3 tbs grated cheese

• 1 tbs chopped parsley

• 2 tbs of butter

• 2 tbs of cream

• Salt and pepper

Choose four potatoes really large that are roughly the same size. Scrub them well and prick them all over before baking on the middle shelf in a moderate oven 180°, Celsius 350°F, gas mark 4 for an hour or longer until they are soft when squeezed between your finger and thumb. Remove the potatoes from the oven once done and while they cool slightly prepare the stuffing.

Combine in a bowl 3 rashers of bacon that have been fried until crisp and then chopped or crumbled, the grated cheese and chopped parsley. Split the potatoes down the middle taking care not to damage the skins. Scoop out the potato and put it into the bowl with the other ingredients then add the butter, cream, salt and pepper and mix well together. Place the mixture into the potato shells, sprinkle a little more cheese on top and heat in a hot oven 200°C four 100°F gas mark 6 for 20 minutes.

Well, I best end this letter here, it’s getting late. I hope you have a wonderful few days if you are celebrating and do let me know how you are getting on and if you are enjoying these letters. As always if you would like to share a story, please write to me at info@oldirishrecipes.com.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

P.S. By the way, the December Turn of the Year newsletter is being sent tomorrow with all the old Irish December and Christmas traditions that you might like to enjoy with your friends and family.

P.P.S. You can see all previous letters at Old Irish Recipes below.

Old Irish Recipes

Join 6,000+ subscribers and get our 5 min weekly newsletter on reawakening the magic of Ireland’s rich heritage in your home.

By Róisín Hynes

Old Irish Recipes

A chara,

I hope you’re keeping wrapped up over there.

It’s all over the radio here that deep snow is due and the kids are so excited. Their only concern is if it will enough to play in. My only concern is if they will be wrapped up warmly. We have the fire burning here and the kettle on all the time. This week I have a very old Irish farmhouse Christmas cake for you made with wholemeal milled flour and a big freeze midwife story fit to be a movie.

I remember you were once asking how people back then managed in such cold weather without electricity and when I heard the snow forecast I knew I had to tell you about Mrs. Ryan’s Story, also known as “The Big Freeze”. The story was given to me by Ciara O’Connell who kindly remembered the incredible life of her Granny Ryan. The word that comes to mind when I hear this story and think of Mrs. Ryan’s legacy is resilience. The photograph included is the story owner Ciara O’Connell on her wedding day with her Granny Ryan.

Mrs. Ryan’s Story (The Big Freeze)

“My beautiful little grandmother, Mrs. Ryan died peacefully surrounded by her family just a week away from her 94th birthday. She was a champion Irish dancer in her day and she trained as a nurse in Dublin, working in London during the Blitz. She came home to Ireland where she won the gold medal for midwifery in Holle's Street Hospital. She delivered babies all over Dublin including the tenements which had entire families living in single rooms with no electricity, before taking up a position as district midwife in Carlow where she delivered 3,500 babies in their homes, including helping to deliver my mother in Goresbridge while she was 8 months pregnant herself carrying my dad.

On the 19^th of January 1947 Ireland was hit with an anticyclone weather phenomenon that lasted two months, bringing chilling temperatures of -14 degrees centigrade. By the 19^th of February, the death rate of Dublin had more than doubled. It became known as the Big Freeze.

My granny had just moved to a Blackstair’s mountain village called Borris as district midwife and was at a dance when the snow started to fall. A knock came on her door later that night by a man whose wife needed help delivering her baby in nearby village of Ballymurphy. It took them 4 hours to walk to the house through the snow.... baby arrived safely next morning by which time the house was completely snowed in and they needed to be rescued. Grandad was one of the few local farmers that had a tractor, so the doctor and the parish priest drafted him into the search party. She met my grandfather for the first time after their search party dug them out from that house in Ballymurphy....and the rest is history.

As well as working and rearing eight children, (dad came number 6 in the family) she did trojan work on the two farms as well and fundraised countless thousands of pounds for charity through her Irish nights in O'Connors of Borris among many other initiatives. 31 grandchildren and 27 great grandchildren followed, and she had so much time, pride and love for every one of us with every achievement celebrated and a love for life instilled in all of us. Her midwifery bag was out ready for all of us granddaughters when our due dates were near in case she was called on. We will never see the likes of her again.”

Old Irish Farmhouse Christmas Cake – Císte torthaí

“I look forward to reading your newsletter. You cover so many wonderful topics”. Reader message

This is a very old Irish country Christmas wholemeal fruitcake recipe. Whole wheat which was cheaper and more readily available then refined white flour. Traditionally wholemeal was milled locally throughout Ireland and local wholemeal flour can still be purchased.

Ingredients:

·       175g (6oz) of soft butter

·       2 heaped tablespoons of brown sugar

·       350g (12oz) wholemeal flour

·       3 level teaspoons baking powder

·       2 level teaspoons mixed spice

·       2 large eggs, beaten

·       450 grams (1 lb.) mixed dried fruit, washed and patted dry

·       50g (2oz) of flaked almonds (optional)

Method:

Cream the butter and sugar together in a mixing bowl until light. In a separate bowl, combine the flour baking powder and mixed spice and mix well.

Add the beaten eggs a little at a time to the first mixing bowl and alternate it with the flour mixture from the second bow so everything is added evenly. Then gently fold in the remaining flour mixture gently.

Add the dried fruit and mix everything together well. If the mixture seems very stiff at this stage, add a little water but do not allow it to become sloppy. Using a wooden spoon, turn out the mixture into a greased and lined 20cm or 8-inch cake tin.

You can sprinkle the top with the almonds if using. Bake the cake in a preheated oven at 160 degrees, Celsius 320°F, gas mark 3 on the lower shelf, just below the middle shelf, for about two hours. Test it with a fine skewer before removing from the oven.  Once done, allow to cool in the cake tin it baked in. Once cool remove it from the cake tin and place it on a wire rack and remove the paper lining.

I hope you loved this story and recipe like I do. If you would like to share a story, please write to me at info@oldirishrecipes.com with permission to share it.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

P.S. You can see all previous letters at Old Irish Recipes below.

Old Irish Recipes

Join 6,000+ subscribers and get our 5 min weekly newsletter on reawakening the magic of Ireland’s rich heritage in your home.

By Róisín Hynes

Heritage Irish Traditions

A chara,

This gentle old Irish winter home blessing, loved by little children can be carried out on the day you begin to make your Christmas cake, or perhaps coming up to Thanksgiving, or on any normal quiet Sunday in early winter. I always love to see our children’s happiness through fun and meaningful Irish heritage traditions.

Something sweet to note at this time of year while I mention children. In case you know anyone looking for a baby name right now, it is an old tradition that boys born around this time of year were often christened Michael or Micheál, meaning “Gift from God”. My own grandad Michael, who was named following this tradition, was the inspiration for these letters. It was him that often hunted and killed blackbird for lunch with his older brother when he was my children’s age, because he was hungry. Our family just celebrated his 90th birthday last weekend. My mother who passed this home blessing on to me is called Michelle after her dad and was also born around this time of the year.

I am told this was a very old pagan tradition that had church influence over time, so I will include both blessings and you can take what you want and leave the rest.

Christianity replaced old traditions at this time of the year with Michaelmas and scheduled it to fall on November the 8th. In reality, as the days get shorter and shorter and the harvests were completed, family preparations would naturally start to include storing food for winter around this time and so preparing your home blessing along with your Christmas cake at a time that suits you, connects us to our heritage beautifully. Does this old blessing work? Well we have always managed to keep good luck around and this little blessing is done a few times a year and is one of my favorites. But answering that is up to you.

How to Carry Out the Winter Home Blessing

This winter home blessing has been used in my family for years. My aunt told me about the stairs part and a local healer I know told me about the attic door. It is a cleansing and protection winter ritual to bring protection to the family, be warding off danger, fire and hunger. If you are interested, you can see it below.

Take a little bottle of sacred well water and sprinkle some on the front entrance to your property, the cars, the back entrance, the front door and then on the threshold of all internal doors, on all windows and in every corner of every room, including any sheds or barns. Also sprinkle it on the bottom, middle and top of the stairs and attic door to ward off accidents. Finally, sprinkle some on all the family members starting with the youngest and then on all the animals or pets. Or, if you prefer, you can take a bottle of blessed well water (most sacred wells in Ireland were blessed by the church) and instead of loosely sprinkling each area, throw the water while making the sign of the cross on each.

When I did this over the years, my kids when they were younger would follow me around like little ducklings to make sure I hadn’t missed a corner and want their turn to sprinkle the water. We would chat as we carried out the blessing and I would always tell them that there could never be any ghosts or monsters in our house as it was always blessed with sacred well water, which they were delighted about. To be fair, they never had any bad nightmares or were afraid of the lights being out so long as the hall light was on, and the bedroom door left ajar. Blessing the stairs also reinforced the idea of never running on the stairs and always using the banister to hold on to. I love this tradition and will be using it to softly remind the kids about fire and accident safety in the home coming up to Christmas, as well as to connect them with their heritage and create a peaceful ambiance in the home.

I hope you enjoy this one.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

A chara,

Here is the old Irish “Big House” Christmas cake recipe or Císte Nollag that you were asking for, along with a winter home blessing that you can enjoy on the same day. Now you may have not expected so many luxury ingredients, but Ireland has been trading with Europe for centuries. I hope you like the postcard of the 13th century, magnificent Ashford Castle above which began life as a medieval fortress and now is a grand retreat. Hopefully you can visit some day soon. Also if you are on the monthly €5 newsletter you will get the old Irish home blessing today too. I am planning to do mine this Sunday as I like to prep the Christmas cake and carry out the blessing on the same day.

This recipe dates from the 1860s and makes a beautiful, very rich fruit cake, 25 centimeters or 10 inches round. It needs to be made at least one month before needed to let it mature well. It can also be made for weddings and christenings. In fact, my mother made a similar one for her own winter wedding and had her sisters mother in-law finish the icing for her.

Irish mothers usually begin making their Christmas cake in the first or second week of November. My mother-in-law made hers yesterday with her grandson helping out and a friend of mine who was spent many years teaching women to cook made hers last week. I am making mine this Sunday evening.

10-inch cakes can serve to up to 25 people with each slice measuring about 1 and 1/4 inches across the back or about the width of a teaspoon. Cut and served event style, a 10-inch cake can serve as many as 39 people. When you consider that you will be serving it throughout Christmas week to your family and visitors, having a large home baked Christmas cake does make good sense. As this cake is made over a few weeks, its best to get out your diary and plan backwards from the day you plan to cut the first slice.

Christmas cake - Císte Nollag

Step 1: Preparing the Fruit

Ingredients:

• 450g or 1 lb. of sultanas

• 450g or 1 lb. of raisins

• 225g or 8oz currants

• 100g or 4oz glazed cherries

• 175g or 6oz of mixed chopped candied peel

• 100g or 4oz dried apricots, soaked

• 100g or 4oz walnuts or split blanched almonds

The evening before take the butter and eggs from the fridge to a cool room temperature. Then line a 25cm or 10-inch cake tin on its sides and bottom, using first a double layer of brown paper and then second, grease proof paper, oiled with margarine. Prepare the fruit and nuts into the correct amounts. Soak the dried apricots in a bowl by pouring over boiling water so that they are covered and leave to soak for 5 minutes (or longer if the apricots are very dry), then drain off the water. Chop the whole peel.

In the morning, mix all the ingredients together and place in the baking tin. Cover with tinfoil and heat in the lowest possible oven until the fruit swells up. Mixing with a wooden spoon and when they are a bit sticky, take out from the oven, separate the ingredients again and leave overnight to get cold.

Step 2: Making the Cake

Ingredients:

• 175g or 6oz of soft brown sugar

• 175g or 6oz fine sugar

• 350g or 12oz of butter

• 6 large eggs

• 450g or 1 lb. of plain flour, sifted

• 100g or 4oz of ground almonds

• 1 rounded teaspoon mixed spice

• 1 level teaspoon grated nutmeg

• 1/2 a teaspoon of salt

• Finely grated rind and juice of 1 lemon

• Finely grated rind and juice of 1 orange

• 4 tablespoons of brandy, whiskey or rum as per your family preference

Cream the sugars and butter until light. Add the eggs separately with the little flour, beating well between each. Fold in gently but thoroughly the remaining sifted flour, spices, ground almonds, fruit juices, rinds and salt and do not beat the ingredients because it will make the cake hard. Add the prepared fruit and nuts gradually, and finally add the spirits. Mixing well. You can at this point cover the ingredients and leave in a cool place overnight. The next morning you will begin to make the cake.

Step 3: Baking the Cake:

Preheat the oven to 160°C 350°F, gas mark 2/3. Put the mixture into a prepared baking tin and smooth the top with a wet wooden spoon, then loosely cover with grease proof paper or foil. Place it on the middle oven rack. After half an hour reduce the heat to 140°C, 275°F, gas mark 1 and cook for two hours, then remove the paper cover. Continue cooking for about 3 hours more, lowering the temperature slightly if it is browning too much. Test before taking from the oven with a skewer to make sure it is baked through. When done, take out of the oven but leave in the baking tin and pour over 2 tablespoons more of your chosen alcohol spirits. Leave the cake to get quite cold, then turn out of the tin careful and wrap in a double layer of grease proof paper before storing in an airtight tin for two weeks.

Step 4: Infusing Alcohol

After two weeks gently pour over two more tablespoons of your chosen spirits. Again, wrap in a double layer of grease proof paper before returning to an airtight tin for another two weeks.

Step 5: Adding Almond Paste

Finally, right before Christmas week, it will be ready for icing with almond paste and then on Christmas week, royal icing.

Ingredients:

• 800g or 28oz ground almonds

• 400g or 14oz icing sugar

• 200g or 14oz fine sugar

• 1 teaspoon almond essence

• Juice of 1 lemon

• 1 duck egg or three egg yolks

• A little apricot jam, warmed

Mix the ground almonds and both sugars well and make a well in the center. Beat the egg or eggs, add the lemon juice and almond essence and pour the mixture into the well. Mix all together with your fingers gently instead of kneading as otherwise it will make the almonds oily. The almond paste should be pliable but not sticky. Add more lemon juice or icing sugar if necessary.

Dust a board with icing sugar and roll out the paste to the size of the cake top. If the top of the cake is not straight, cut it to make the surface level and then turn the cake over so that the flat bottom becomes the top. Brush the warm apricot jam over the cake, first pressing it through a sieve onto the top of the cake. Gently reverse the cake again to lay the apricot side down on the round of almond paste. Press down lightly and trim around the edges. Put the cake board or plate over it and turn it back upside down. Cover lightly with tissue paper and leave to harden for a week. This will allow it to dry thoroughly. It will then be ready for royal icing.

Step 6: Adding Royal Icing

Ingredients;

·       900 grams or 2 lbs. of icing sugar

·       1 teaspoon of lemon juice

·       4 egg whites

·       2 teaspoons glycerine (to prevent drying out, optional but recommended)

The cake should be on the plate or cake board that it will be served on. Sift the icing sugar twice. Put the egg whites in a bowl and stir lightly with a fork do not beat. Add most of the sifted sugar a little at a time beating well between each addition. Add the lemon juice, glycerin, remaining sugar, beating very well to get rid of any tiny air bubbles and until the icing becomes really smooth. Cover with a dampened cloth until ready to apply. The icing should then be smoothed over the entire cake top and sides with an icing knife and left to dry naturally.

If you prefer a thick double icing, the first coat should be left to dry for 24 hours and then you can apply the second coat.

Step 7: Storing Until Serving

When finished the whole cake should be covered loosely with tissue paper only. Do not put it into a tin or it will sweat and spoil. Serve two to three days later.

I hope you enjoy this recipe, its certainly one to keep as I said for weddings, christenings and communions too. Do let me know what other recipes you might like next, as I am writing up a list to send to you.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

A chara,

I hope you are well.

You mentioned to me that you would love to hear some truly memorable Irish stories and the first one that came to mind when I was planning the Christmas recipes had to be the story of Orwin and Sebana, Ireland’s own Romeo and Juliet. Instead of being a work of fiction, there is far more than a hint of truth to this story. About fifty years after Shakespeare wrote his masterpiece, our Irish forbidden love story, somewhere between legend and truth unfolded. I wanted to share this with you as this story is simply magic.

The story took place in the 1650s during the Cromwellian conquest of Ireland. This was the period of the re-conquest of Ireland by the Commonwealth of England, led by Oliver Cromwell.

Sebana was a Nugent, only daughter of the Black Baron who owned Ross Castle, a furious man and an English Royalist. Orwin was the head of the O’Reilly clan and an Irish rebel fighter. Their forbidden love was doomed from the start.

Orwin was wounded in battle and hid out in the ruins of his family castle, Crover Castle on Crover Island in Lough Sheelin, County Cavan. The castle had been cannonballed by Cromwell during the re-conquest of Ireland, destroying half of it.

Sebana was greatly confined to her father’s estate during the rebellion and was known to walk along the shores of Lough Sheelin in the evening. One night she heard music being carried through the night air over Lough Sheelin, coming from Crover Island. She rowed over to the island where she found Orwin, wounded and playing his harp. She kept visiting and gradually they fell in love. They knew that they had to keep their love a secret because he was in hiding.

Then Sebana caught a fever, possibly pneumonia from being out on Lough Sheelin at all hours and she spent a couple of weeks in her tower bedroom recovering. During those few lonely weeks, Orwin began to believe that she had abandoned him. Distraught, he died from his wounds and a broken heart. As soon as Sebana became well enough, she returned to Crover Island to find his lifeless body. Orwin’s ghost then appeared to her and asked her to bury him on the land around Ross Castle, so that she can see him from her bedroom window.

Sebana arranged his burial in a grave close to Ross Castle as he wished. Not long after she died of a broken heart. She was buried alongside him and now it is said that they now both haunt Lough Sheelin together. Today there is a plaque there in honour of their forbidden, tragic love. Her tower bedroom still stands, as does the ruins of Crover Castle, which was built in 1393 by Thomas McMahon O’Reilly during the O’Reilly reign.

In the 1800s, local poet Phil O’Connell captured the story in a truly beautiful poem and it is spreading around the world again through the artbook of local talented artist Kim Gaffney. What I find so endearing about this story is that local artist Kim only came to art recently in life and works in community palliative care, providing end of life care. I am sure she knows much about both love encompassing all, even in death.

I wanted you to enjoy the beautiful poem about this story so that it doesn’t slip through the passage of time.

Orwin and Sebanna

Wild shone the moon o'er Sheelin's wave
And silent night involved the world
When Orwin left his secret cave
Where round his home the white wave curled
From splendid home and festive halls
By wars oppressive power driven
Alone he mourned his early fall
Nor felt a hope save chat of heaven
Within a solitary isle
By Sheelin’s murmuring waves surrounded
The ruins of a Gothic pile
Received him joyless and confounded
Lonely he wandered on the shore
And sighed for friends in battle falling
Again he sees them drenched in gore
And fondly each dear name recalling
"Where are the brave" he sadly cried
Dear lovely Erin once thy glory
In vain to save thee have they died
Nor lives one bard to grace thy story
Mighty O'Neill are thine eyes closed
That keenly blazed in battles danger
Weak is that arm so long opposed
To Erin's foes her great avenger
Near what lone river are ye laid
Ye great O'Donnell of the mountains
Or do ye roam like me dismayed
Or mourn by the moon light fountains
Green is thy grave, without a stone
Enclosed by the blue rolling waters
Yet long shall thy dear name be known
In the sad songs of Erin's daughters
Nation of heroes art thou quelled
And does the chain of bondage humble
Those who so long the thistle held
Where died the lion trembled
Thus mused he when the morning owl
Flew fearless round the woe-warn strangers
Who startled as the watch dogs howl
For on the shore seemed threatening danger
But yet one feeling sheared his heart
While every other hope departed
All powerless love's infusing dart
Gives life one charm though broken-hearted
Far o'er the waves high on the shore
Proud Ross displays its lofty towers
Where she who cheered his mone heart's core
Oft wandered in its peaceful bowers
Sebana was the fair one named
The proud Black Baron's only daughter
For tender love and fondness famed
Yet lovers in vain besought her
In seasons mild twas her delight
To wander through her native bowers
In the calm silence of the night
And muse away the harmless hours
Once as along the foam crowned shore
Beneath the moon's pale silver glowing
She stood to hear the waters roar
And well responding boatmen rowing
The waves where still the rowers sang
DIed softly on the distant billow
And all was silent as the tongue
Of him who sleeps on Death's cold pillow
When sudden to her raptured ears
Came sound more sweet more to inspire
Each enchanted soul that human care
Had e'er drawn from the trembling wire
The sound seemed from an angel's band
So sweetly soft so deeply moving
Then rising in the Zephyr bland
Their strains unceasing in wild notes roving
Transfixed by the enchanting song
She leaned upon a bending willow
Till the last notes in echoes rung
Came softly o'er the silent billow
Urged by curiosity to know
From whence the magic sounds proceeded
She called her page oft wont to row
Her little boat, when pleasure needed
The well known voyage was not far
Soon on the lonely island landed
When from the castles windows' glare
The twinkling light with moon beams blended
Afraid yet anxious to advance
She wandering stood nor dared to enter
Till a face shone by the flickering glare
Seemed to invite the maid to enter
'Twas Orwin and who else
Could show a face to female fancy dearer
Where struggling valour appeared to glow
By pensive sadness rendered fairer
Amazed she stood, till Urwin's eye
Chanced on the lonely blushing stranger
In mingled terror and surprise
To him each face seemed fraugh with danger
Starting he seized his two edged sword
Yet paused to beauty's soveriegn power
And such light as did the place afford
Gave light to love in danger's hour
"Whence" he cried "fair fearless maid
Come you now so unexpected
By chance alone has't thou strayed
Or hast disguise thy course directed
"O Pardon" cried the trembling fair
"A foolish maid", whose steps unguided had by curiosity to dare
What caution and prudence "would have chided"
My father lands the woods of Ross
In me behold his only daughter
Where it your days you choose to pass
You'll meet a friend who will not falter
"One instant now dear lovely maid
Let be request, which, if denied me
To quick destruction soon betrayed
A dungeon gloom till death will take him
For O In me you see the man
Who last opposed proud Cromwell's power
My armies slain, my glories gone
A fugitive within this tower
Thy father is on Cromwell's side
My life is gone if once discovered
'Tis now in time since chance did guide
Thee to Orwin's cover
"Orwin" exclaimed the smiling maid
Her glistening eyes in gladness beaming
And art thou he so fierce in war
So terrible in red fields streaming
When warriors filled my father's hall
Oft have I heard that name repeated
Whereon thy foes oft extol
The fame as such thy deeds related
There lives one, a brother too
Whose grateful heart will love thee ever
SInce saved in battle's rage by you
Where foemen's spears did round him quiver
Dost thou forget that fateful day
You stood to save Lough Ougthers Castle
When Cromwell's armies in array
Along the shores did thundering rattle
Before O'Neill where Briton's fled
Foremost you pursued with slaughter
A dying foe you homeward led
Borne by you through the water
That foe who did you kndness share
And owes his life is my fond brother
Come then to Ross and meet him there
Nor thy name be known to other
She wiged in vain then bade adiew
Resolved next evening to return
While confidence on both side grew
And more than friend ship's flame did burn
The boat again with evening came
Well stored with all the place required
The sparkling faggots bright did flame
While all sat round the blazing fire
The dinner laid, the cheerful wine
Restored once more the Chieftain's spirit
And once again did sprightly shine
Each innate charm he did inherit
That ample heart, by fortune's frown
Contracted, now again expanded
That noble soul long blending down
Burst forth with native graces blended
Again he touched the sounding string
In tender strains of magic sweetness
They sand the songs of Erin's Kings
And deep deplored her fallen greatness
They sand of sorrows all his own
His luckless wars his toils and danger
His friends all fallen, he alone left alone, alone, a stranger
He ceased and found the maid in tears
Deeply she felt his plaintive story
And tender pity for his care
Burst forth in silent oratory
While there they sat the ardent page
Of each alternate fondly stolen
More firmly laid the struggling flame
That deep in either heart had fallen
The unfelt hours stole swiftly by
Reluctantly again they parted
Sweet was the language of the eye
Which modesty but half averted
And from that time when chance was kind
They oft enjoyed the stolen hours
Till Orwin once his care resigned
To rove within her father's bowers
And here they sat and vowed eternal truth
And every solemn promise plighted
That till the latest day of both
Their fates henceforth should be united
The dew fell fast the air was chill
The rising wind, the dark woods shrouded
Black night hung low on every hill
The noisy waves the rocks resounded
The happy hours unfelt had passed
And late it was when both returned
The morn gained the mainland waste
The sinking stars but faintly burned
Sad Orwin sought the dreary isle
Sebana gained her silent chamber
Alternate wept and sighed and smiled
As she each recent scene remembered
She sought her bed to soothe her mind
Cold, pallid, trembling and exhausted
Whereby a fever low confined
Long dreary days and nights she wasted
In vain sad Orwin's on the shore
In wild impatience sadly straying
Many a wistful look cast o'er
The evening shades around him playing
Hours, days and weeks slow passed away
No bounding boat came o'er the waters
More wrecked each succeeding day
Then fickle and inconstant thought her
Again of every hope bereft
Each grief returned with keener anguish
One pang wakes many
Careless of life he wildly roved
His senses fled his vigour wasted
And scarcely talked of her he loved
And raved of joy too quickly blasted
At length death's kind hand set free
That soul long plunged in hopeless sorrow
Bleached in the passing gale he lay
The victim of misfortune's arrow
Nor know Sebana half her woe
To hope, to health and strength recovered
Now sought the shore at evening's close
To meet again her long lost lover
Night fell and darkness closed each vale
The soft moon on the waters beaming
That lightly ruffled to the gate
In silvery sparkles brightly beaming
Lonely she wandered on the shore
And sand those songs that Orwin taught her
And many a lingering look cast o'er
Across the lonely waster of water
At length so moving o'er the strand
Came Orwin and stood close beside her
But, oh! nor spoke nor took her hand
Nor even sought by looks to chide her
He hung his head, half turned his face
Nor sighed nor broke the fearful silence
Unusual fear her soul oppressed
While down her cheek the cold sweat glide
She saw his face 'twas wild and pale
His hollow eyes were sunk and glazing
his uncombined locks flee to the gale
And blue the lips once sweetly pleasing
"Ah! Speak" she cried I faint in fear
O! why so changed, so sad so gloomy
Say can'st thou doubt a heart so dear
Alas methought you better knew me
"Beloved Sebana" he softly said
Calm thy sad heart in patience hear me
Love bids me hope dear faithful maid
That e'en in death you no fear me
For O of earth no more I breathe
Cold lies my corpse in yonder bower
For thee I burst the bonds of earth
To meet thee at the silent hour
For thee I died, ans till for thee
My bosom fells its former fire
E'en now from human frailties free
Love yet survives though life expires
Then cheer my soul and be not sad
My wakeful care shall watch thee ever
Till thou be mingled with the dead
Then, then in bliss no more we sever
And one last favour let me ask
And O forgive the fond desire
Which kind hope say the lonely task
Who will not deem so much required
To lay my corpse with the earth
In that loved sport where first you told me
Your heart was mine which gave hope birth
That e'en in death's last pang console me
There let me rest in peaceful death
By all but thee unknown
Unheeded and lost alike to glory's breath
From honour, rank, and fame degraded
And when the bloom of early Spring
Refresh my grave with genial showers
The grateful offerings wilt thou bring
And strew my clay cold bed with flowers
And then e'er long you will be laid
And there will meet the lovers
On our grave their vows be paid
And shed their tears our cold bed over
Assisted by her faithful page
His wish fulfilled his grave is covered
Short she withstood keen sorrows rage
Small time survived her sleeping lover
Her days were few upon the hill
And many those who knew deplored them
Now both one lonely grave do fill
Each rolling year blooms flowers o'er them
And oftime in the dead of night
Is seen the proud Black baron's daughter
By the side of Orwin gliding bright
And roaming o'er Lough Sheelin's water

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

A chara,

I hope all is well with you. The weather has turned wintery here and it feels like that lovely quiet time before the rush and fun of Christmas.

You were asking for more stories with a bit more punch about machinery failing around fairy forts. Well, I think you will agree that these are very significant.

As I was saying last week, the respectful fear in Ireland, is the belief that terrible consequences will befall anyone that interferes with or damages our ancient monuments.

I will pick up where I left off with the helicopter crashes and go from there. In 2004 there was a bad helicopter crash at Newgrange in County Meath. Newgrange is a world famous 5,000 year old megalithic burial chamber, older than the pyramids of Egypt. A BBC film crew were making a documentary about it and the presenter was walking on top of the mound while the helicopter flew overhead carrying the cameraman, soundman, pilot and another man. The very moment the helicopter flew over the giant mound, a part of the tail broke away and the helicopter spun out of control and crashed in front of Newgrange. It was a miracle that everyone survived.

Some burial tombs in Ireland still hold a lot of power. Another tomb, the Aughrim Wedge Tomb, known locally as the Giant’s Grave, is said by some to be responsible for the fall of Ireland’s richest man Sean Quinn.

In the early 1990’s Sean Quinn had a business empire worth billions. One of the companies in his business empire was granted permission to expand its quarry on the slopes of Slieve Rushen, where the Aughrim Wedge Tomb stood for about 4000 years. Can you believe that the Office of Public Works granted permission to expand a quarry where such an archaeological find stood? It beggars’ belief. So anyway, in 1992 the tomb was archaeologically excavated, recorded, and moved stone by stone to the grounds of the former Quinn Group owned, Slieve Russell Hotel in nearby Ballyconnell as a tourist attraction.

Sean Quinn was well thought of and highly respected in his locality for all the good work and employment he brought to the area over the years. However, when it came to moving that tomb, many locals predicted his downfall, as he was sure to evoke the wrath of the Sidhe (faeries). Sure enough, by 2012 he was made bankrupt, he and some of his family spent time in jail, he lost a business empire worth billions and he has never recovered. Many people associated with his companies are also believed to have suffered.

Worst than that, in 2007 former Minister for the Environment, Dick Roche granted permission to excavate the ancient Lismullen Henge, so that a motorway could be built near the ancient Hill of Tara. Now let me explain. Lismullin Henge was a 4,000 year old astronomical observatory and place of worship for Irish druids. In fact, it was called one of the most important archaeological finds of the century. Again many people predicted disaster would come his way, and some did so very loudly. In 2007, Seannachaí Eddie Lennihan actually warned the Irish Government that they would be cursed if they went ahead and destroying the existing fairy forts in the historic Tara Valley in order to make way for the motorway. Now this is a big deal because the few Seannachaí know their stuff and are very respected.

A spokesman for the National Roads Authority responded to Eddie Lennihan and mocked him, basically saying that the government weren't in the least bit concerned. Then the Minister of Transport Martin Cullen ‘turned the sod’ on the motorway project. This means he dug the first hole to make the road as part of a PR stunt and the motorway build began.

Well, it wasn’t long before Seannachaí Eddie Lennihan’s words came true. In 2008 Ireland fell straight into the Great Recession having to be bailed out by the International Monetary Fund. The same year, Dick Roche was held hostage at gun point by an armed gang in the Druids Glen Hotel. The irony of the hotel name was not lost on him, I’m sure. He also lost his job and was then demoted out of politics. Then in March 2009, Martin Cullen almost got sucked out of a helicopter after the door blew off. He resigned one year later.

During the excavation, the Chief Health and Safety officer on the Lismullen Henge excavation project was seriously injured by a falling tree at Rath Lugh, and not only this, but unfortunately a workman was also killed when he became trapped at Fairyhouse.

I will write to you again next week and if you are on my monthly tradition reminders newsletter, you will get an extra letter this week to help you prepare for this month’s blessing tradition at home.

Take care and I will speak to you soon.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

Share Old Irish Recipes

A chara,

I hope you had a wonderful Halloween with your family. Please let me know how it went. We loved it as always, the kids dressed up as a witch and a banshee and had a ball. My favorite part of it remains to be the 1^st of November. It is the first day of the new year in the Old Irish Calendar and the first day of winter, a time to strengthen before spring and a time for the thinning of the veil between the living and the spirit world.

As I am writing to you, I am looking out my window at a group of rowan trees, each with the most beautiful colors against a soft grey sky. When winter sets in and all the storms come and blow those trees about, their roots grow deeper underground, strengthening those trees. To me that is what this season is all about, growing in ways unseen and strengthening ourselves.

I have so many beautiful traditions to share with you from my own home that I have been doing for years now. I keep a folder of them which I call the Turn of the Year. It started as a list of heritage practices I wanted to pass on to my children and it grew year by year as I began to write little notes on what we did and their delightful reactions, so that I could have it as a keepsake for my children. My husband used to kindly roll his eyes as I did some of these but now, he enjoys them with us or enjoys watching us go about them.

Today, November 1^st in Ireland is All Saints Day and is also known as the Feast of All Saints. So tonight, I am doing dinner as usual but with that extra woman’s touch on our own feast. The fire will be lit, the candles will be burning, and the table will be set. After dinner, there will be dessert at the table with tea. After tea there will be a glass of whiskey poured for the grownups. Now for my favorite part. Golden time I call it. As November is the month of the dead, I will bring up our kids’ ancestors, their great grandparents, aunts and uncles, both alive and dead and trace back their gifts and talents through the family tree.

Last year’s story of “You know your grandmother on this side and your great grandmother on that side were excellent seamstress” led to both our young daughters taking up sewing lessons this year and finding a huge love for dressmaking. Tracing talents, gifts and interests such as music, cooking, storytelling, sport and healing back through the family helps me to reintroduce the family tree which we go through to give them a solid identity anchor in their life. It helps bring up new talents too, such as “your great-grandads brother could turn his hand to anything, from fishing to reupholstering sofa’s. There was nothing he couldn’t do if he had a go at it.” This helps me draw out of the girls anything they would like to try or any natural skills that we as their parents have observed in them that they might want to develop. Its always a lovely conversation.

I then bring it around to the topic of saints. Past generations would have revered saints. Still to this day I have found over the years that many Irish families have a preferred saint that they turn to when things get a bit rough. I have known one or two who have nothing to do with the church in any way but have one saint in mind that warms their soul. This is usual a saint that their mother or grandfather or such looked to. In my father’s family it is St. Joseph, the resonance of this saint has passed down at least four generations by now. In another of my relations houses it is Padre Pio, another is Mother Mary, for my grandmother it is St. Brigit and for my kids it is St. Edmund Rice, a relation on their father’s side.

When I brought them to their first sewing lesson held at a local parish hall, the door on their classroom read “Saint Edmund Rice”. They saw it as a sign that their great grandmother was encouraging their new hobby and that if they worked hard at it they might find that they had the same gift for dressmaking as she did. They sewed nonstop for three hours and have talked about sewing most days since. The other side of bringing up saints is to link back to the hard times their ancestors went through and how they might have found internal strength and fortitude. I use this as an annual way of bringing up resilience directly, it helps to introduce the Irish famine, emigration, the circle of life and appreciation for everything we have today. The conversation can go anywhere from here, but I always try to bring it back to their own inner resilience and where they can find strength within themselves. Just today I was speaking to someone who is going to a funeral where two young men, one twenty-one and the other twenty-three years old are burying their last remaining parent and grandparent. They do not have a parent figure now to guide them through some of the biggest decisions in life. In my own way, I use All Saints Day and Irish heritage to try to share an attitude of resilience and hope for the future on to my daughters.

We finish the evening by leaving the prayer card of our preferred saint on the hall table next to a little candle and say my dad’s favorite prayer which has now become our family prayer but that might not be for you. I always say, take what you want and leave the rest and I think that applies well here.

The second day of November is all Souls Day. You know how you and the kids set the coffee table for Santa Clause with a snack before you bring them to bed? Well, some of us in Ireland still carry out this tradition on all Souls Day but for the dead. This sounds strange perhaps but its honestly the loveliest tradition.

We would usually visit the graveyard where our relations and loved ones rested, give it a tidy and leave a candle burning. After talking to the kids about their ancestors and the family stories from the night before, we take out the family photograph album and show them some of their photographs. They love seeing resemblances and having a face to go with the stories. We then light a candle in the window and some people say the rosary for their dead. As my little girl is having her Holy Communion next year, being taught a decade of the rosary will start for us tomorrow as she has already tried to join in with it at a few funerals. We then set the table for our ancestor’s souls with water and a little food, perhaps porridge or some mashed potato and leave out some tea or sometimes a little whiskey. You then leave some more food outside for the faeries so as not to insult them by not inviting them to the feast. No matter what, you must not eat any of the food at all that is meant for the dead or the faeries. Some people even leave out cards or photographs too and it’s a great reason for passing on a card game or trick and an early night. Then we set the fire to burn low for the night and before bed swap out the candle for a battery one, which is a useful modern approach I am very grateful for. Traditionally you leave the back door unlocked too. I leave the window open just a little instead. There is a very old tradition that some more daring people do. You can scatter ash on the floor at the back door on All Souls Night. Now I don’t do this personally. The belief is that when you awake in the morning, if you find that there are footsteps in the ash (left by the dead) it means that someone in the house will die within the year. So, I skip that one, thank you very much.

In the morning you can tell your children that your deceased loved ones visited and that they had a great time. You can also say that their deceased loved ones are always close by and if they need them in the future, they can call upon them and they will be there.

There are many types of beings that are said to walk amongst us. You have fallen angels, the Sidhe (faeries), the evil spirits and the wandering souls and it is said that only blessed water protects from them so in November, an ancient blessing practice that we still do in our home is to bless the cars, the kids bikes and the doors, windows, and gates with blessed well water. I usually do this on St. Martin's Day, which falls on November 11^th. It is also known as “Martinmas”. It was once widely celebrated in Ireland and families sacrificed a hen or a pheasant as an offering and sprinkled blood on the doorposts to bring blessings and protection. I do like to mark this day the old pagan way, so I cook a roast chicken and sprinkle the house with blessed water to protect those within it. This usually means a visit to collect fresh blessed well water, but I know that might not be available to you. If not, I learned this from my mother. You can collect and bottle regular water and whisper a blessing of your own choosing over it. If you can, you then leave it out overnight for the moonlight to glow upon it. A full moon is always best if you can manage it.

During November I look up different Irish heritage related winter festivals and activities with my family. It is such a cosy time of year to snuggle up with them and enjoy these. For example, next week I am going to see Kneecap with my parents and sister and will have a little Irish whiskey or two after to warm up. We also have a family reunion with my grandfathers 90^th birthday this month. He is the very man that inspired this passion project of mine with his stories of catching and eating blackbirds taught to him by his big brother, the same man I mentioned earlier that could turn his hand to anything.  

Irish pubs are made for November weather and traditional Irish music and Irish dance sessions in these pubs take on a special warmth that I describe as the “Saol suaimhneach” which means the peaceful life that alludes to a sense of a regular familiarity of faces, places, and comforts. I will be bringing my family to some of these to ready them up for their first Irish music lessons starting in February and to see if my kids would be interested in going to the family Riverdance show next year.

If you can sprinkle any of these in over the month of November, you are well on your way to passing on your old Irish heritage to the next generation or starting new heritage threads in your family’s life.

I wish you all the best. I must go and get the dinner started and the hot water on for Mr. Hynes after a long day. Take care in November with the thinning of the veil and I will write to you later in the month to get a start on the joys of an Old Irish Christmas.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

A chara,

I hope you are well and are all prepared for Samhain.

My guess is that you are probably expecting me to write to you about lots of Irish ghost stories and I do have a few on my mind. However, the subject of the power held within Irish faerie forts has come up continuously recently by people who are not superstitious, but who have developed the Irish respectful fear. I knew that this was something you would like to mull over, especially as you have been wondering why the Irish don’t do a great job of developing tourism sites related to these. Explaining the Irish respectful fear to you might greatly help.

About three weeks ago after doing the brilliant Kilkenny ghost tour with family, we went to a somewhat secret, somewhat famous tavern called The Hole in the Wall. It has an incredible magnetic energy, having literally been built around an ancient standing stone. This pub is well known to locals and is the number one place to go to in Kilkenny in my humble opinion. It is owned by one of Ireland’s own cardiologists, Michael Conway, who you will often find behind the bar. Personally I find it quite understandable and interesting that a consultant cardiologist who works with the hearts electrical systems would of course be drawn to a place with such a high energy in Irish mythology.

While I was in there, Mr. Conway served us one at a time and told a few well-known Irish faerie stories to the Irish, the American and the Swedish tourists who were drinking there. You could hear a pin drop. They thought he was winding them up and they looked to us (the Irish locals) to confirm it. They didn’t expect the silence and knowing glances that what the cardiologist publican was saying had a ring of truth to it and they were thrown aback by it.  They got to experience the Irish respectful fear in our body language.

A typical story you might hear about Irish faerie forts might go like this. By the way, this is a real story that I heard. “My uncle’s digger broke down as he approached a faerie fort to do work. Then he had to hire a new digger because his own one broke down. The replacement digger also broke down. Then the low-loader that came to collect the broken hired digger also broke down at the same location. He was going to be doing work right up to boundary of the faerie fort without touching the fort itself. After all of this happening he decided it was best not to do any work at all at that location. This person is not superstitious whatsoever, but to this day can't get his head around what happened.” This man now has the respectful fear.

The respectful fear in Ireland is someone saying something like, “I don’t believe in it, but I wouldn’t mess with it either”, when asked about the Irish fairies or touching faerie rings and comes from experiencing or knowing someone who experienced terrible misfortune after interfering in some way with a site. These underground sites include ancient monuments, burial mounds, faerie trees, faerie circles and other sacred places that dot our land. Due to a combination of fear and respect, people never meddled with these places, even to positively draw attention to them, as it was believed that disturbing them could bring bad luck or a curse. Even today, there’s not a village in the country that doesn’t have tales of locals who crossed the fairies.

An elderly lady recently told me that she believes “they” (the Irish fairies) have all gone back underground and that is why people see them less today and why these sites have developed stronger powers.

Again, the topic of machinery, the respectful fear and powers was on my mind to share with you because the other day I was also retold of someone else’s family story. It went a little like this.

 “I used to fish with his brother as kids many years ago. We used to fly fish for salmon and tie flies on the fishing line. If he caught one, he would go down to the pub and sell it. In the 1960’s he got a very good job bringing electricity to each town in the area. He was great at it because he knew the land so well. One day a few years later he was up in the helicopter with the pilot and co-pilot surveying the land and he had them land the helicopter in his brother’s big field so he could pay an unexpected visit. Not long after, that same helicopter crashed not far from that field and both that pilot and co-pilot were killed.”

The storyteller trailed off here as it was understood by some in the group who are familiar with this field that there was a faerie ring in it which was bulldozed shortly before the helicopter visit. The respectful fearing Irish understand that some ancient sites have power and that the energy coming from them interferes with machinery. I have often heard of and saw broken down tractors in fields next to faerie forts.

Now that I have introduced the Irish respectful fear and the machinery concept to you as a mind hook, I will share more recent true stories for you next week so that everything can be explained with some structure and in little story steps that compound, rather than the murky rabbit hole that you are probably used to.

Mind yourself and I will write to you again next week.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

If undelivered please return to Mrs. Róisín Hynes, Carlow, Ireland,

Letter Stamped: 23rd of October 2024

A chara,

I hope you are doing well.  

Thanks so much for your last letter. I am so glad you liked the Irish faerie story behind the song Danny Boy. You mentioned that you would like the music for the original tune. The first music sheet enclosed reflects this music as it was first heard in the castle on the harp. Over time it had lyrics added to it and became known as “The Derry Air” and as you mentioned is also known as “In Derry Vale” with beautiful lyrics on the accompanying music sheet all about being a little homesick for Ireland. I have also included the music sheet for “Danny Boy”, which you are more familiar with. I hope that helps. I am so glad that you mentioned that the song was also known as “In Derry Vale” as it reminded me to tell you all about your Irish family guardian spirits, both the pleasant kind and the not so pleasant kind.

I can understand that you have a lot of questions about the Irish faeries and passing on your heritage to your family in a natural way so that this rich heritage won’t be lost. I think it’s best to tell you about these things in the same way I discuss it naturally with my own family. Each week I drive up to my grandparents and bring my two little daughters and as we take the lesser used country roads, I point out different things that catch my eye that can give them a connection to their heritage, the meaning of a twisted tree trunk at the cross road, a haunted bridge, the road that Cromwell marched his army down, pipes and rent books hidden in walls, ancient tree meeting places, secret tunnels below us, the great history behind a tiny village and so on. We also take “Mammy Mystery History tours” to places a little further afield sometimes.

So as Halloween is around the corner, lets start with the Banshee, or the "bean sídhe" in Irish, as this has come up three or four times in my extended family this week. Now you probably already know a lot about the banshee so I will fill in what I think might be the cracks and then you write back to me with any questions that you have. I am going to be seeing a very important man just before Christmas, so any questions I can’t answer I will ask him for you.

The first thing to know is that a banshee is a welcome guardian spirit of a family whose purpose is to wail or “keen” as a warning to you that the death of a family member is about to take place so that you can ready your nerves to receive this news or perhaps prepare your will and family legacy.

Part of you may begin to understand this if you have already experienced another type of family guardian spirit, such as a butterfly landing on your hand or a robin nearby. This is also known as a family guardian spirit that takes animal form to give you a sign that you are on the right path and to keep moving forward.

A great many Irish families have animal guardian spirits. In the O’Kane’s (my maiden name) ours is called Ben Evenney, and he is the guardian spirit of the O'Cahan family. The spirit of Ben Evenney is the spirit of the Benevenagh land (known as Derry Valley, like the song “In Derry Vale”). It would be a good idea for you to look into whether you have both a family banshee and a family animal guardian spirit also. Remember that they follow bloodlines so even if your family no longer carries an old Irish name, you may still hear or see the banshee or experience the animal guardian spirit.

Hearing the banshee call is a significant gift to have or to allow to develop within you. To develop it you have to be open to the idea that hearing it is real and that you may expect it someday. You may also see the banshee which is always an upsetting sight to be honest. I was told by a man that his father seen a banshee combing her hair and he got such a fright he couldn’t go to work for three days. Every child in Ireland is warned never to pick up a comb on the ground or the banshee will come looking for it.

And this brings me to the next thing about banshees. Sometimes seeing a banshee will mean that you are going to die and sometimes it doesn’t. They may have different powers or different intentions. That is probably why the father in the above story didn’t leave his house for three days, for fear of death, not knowing if seeing the banshee meant it would be his death or someone else’s. He didn’t die in this case, someone else did, but others have.

There is a very famous example of this that made world news. Tragic Sophie Toscan du Plantier is said to have often walked to Three Castle Head in Cork, one day seeing the locally famous ruined castle banshee known as “The White Lady”. She got such a fright that she made her way straight to a neighbour’s house that was closer than her own home and told them what she saw. Unfortunately for her the neighbour’s were not Irish and did not understand what she had saw and her significance. Perhaps neither did Sophie as she was French. Sophie was murdered mere hours later. I have not watched the Netflix documentary that tells this story, but I believe it is in “A Murder in West Cork” or the other one is “Murder at the Cottage” if you want to see it for yourself.

Now do you know that Ireland does not have one banshee? It has hundreds, probably more and they are all look different. Ancient family bloodlines have their own banshee, while others belong to castles and locations such as Three Castle Head as I just mentioned. Some significant families have a ruling banshee, The O’Brien (Ua Briain) families ruling banshee is named Aibell and she rules over twenty-five other banshees who are always at her side. The O’Kane’s also have a ruling banshee named Grainne Rua who is accompanied by a chorus of other banshees when she wails. So this brings me to my next point, Banshees have names, some known, some not, some have known graves too and each look different in appearance. In my own birth family, we have a known grave for our family banshee Grainne Rua on the foothills of Benbradagh mountain.

A banshee could appear as a very young woman, middle aged woman or as an old woman with a shrivelled appearance. She could be dressed in white, or green, or appear as a dark shadow, or with a dark cloak. She levitates or glides in movement. She could be tall, or as little as three feet high. She can have red hair, grey hair, blonde hair, silver hair and has even been seen as headless. This is all because each are different as I have said. I know someone who saw the banshee in Kilkenny hospital not long ago. She appeared as a three-foot-high shrived woman in bright luminous green walking right behind an oblivious nurse towards a private room. The young resident passed away that night. The lady found out about the death because she confided what she had seen in the cleaning lady first thing the next morning knowing the woman would instantly believe her. And you know what, she did.

There are many stories and some on record about the Banshee in Ireland. Some people have seen her simply move past them as they go about their business. Others have seen her combing her hair with her broken toothed comb, while sitting on a wall outside someone’s home. You would want to hurry past in case she throws her comb at you, in which case if it hits you, you will die.

Last week my grandmother brought up a story that a married couple who were friends of her parents both seen a banshee sitting on a gate as they walked home on evening. They got a huge fright and hurried on past her down the road towards their house as quick as they could, but she appeared on every gate they passed until they reached their house. In the morning, the grandad of the house was found dead in his bed. This story may reflect the accompanying banshees belonging to that ruling family banshee, each appearing on every field and house gate along that road.

There is so much more that I can write to you about on this topic, but that will have to be enough for this evening. I will say one last thing, it would be good to have something of iron in your home to prevent her coming into your house. An iron horseshoe will at least keep her outside. I have two in our home, one in the kitchen and one in the garden. That is why she was seen in Kilkenny hospital, there was no iron horseshoe preventing her entry.

A lovely lady I met in Kilkenny can arrange to send you an Irish iron horseshoe if you want but just make sure to hang it in a “U” shape and not an “N” shape for extra luck. I will add a note of her details in the envelope along with the music sheets. If you are asking for one please tell her I sent you. Now I’m off to bed, I’ll write to you again next week.

Don’t forget about the old traditions now around the corner for Samhain and early November. If you need a monthly reminder of them, let me know and I’ll write down our family’s favorite ones.

Mind yourself and give my best wishes to the family. 

P.S. I will telegram you some old Irish Halloween recipes for you through Instagram.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

A chara,

I hope that you are keeping well.

I heard you were hoping to hear of some lesser known Irish heritage stories. Now rather than chatting to you about St. Patrick or leprechauns, I hope you don’t mind if I share a beautiful legend that began at the time of St. Patrick that tells about a gift of music from the Sidhe (Irish fairies) below. It is one of my favourites and you will see why in a minute.

In the time of St. Patrick and as early as the 5th century, an Irish family called the O’Cahan clan, (known today as the Ó Catháin, O’Kanes, Kanes, Canes, Cain’s and McCain’s and so on), were found throughout Coleraine and Limavady in Northern Ireland. By 1100AD, the seat of the O'Cahan Clan, Dungiven Priory was founded, overlooking the River Roe. Within it lies the tomb of Cooey-na-Gall, an ancient Chieftain of the O'Cahan clan. A few feet away, lies a healing wart well and a fairy rag tree.

The O’Cahan became strong and influential, but in 1608, the last of the influential lords, Domhnaill (Danny) O’Cathain, (also known as Donnell Ballagh O'Cahan) was captured and held in the Tower of London until his death in 1626. The time of the O’Cahan’s was over.

Before resigning their lands and castles to London, the O’Cahan chieftain, a great harper and composer named Ruaidhrí Dall Ó Catháin (also known as Rory Dall O’Cahan) did what all O’Kane’s do well. He threw one last great party at his remaining castle to celebrate all that had gone before them and to commiserate all that was ahead of them. As the party began to die down into the early hours, Rory became overcome with grief and drink. He slipped out quietly to sit at the bank of the River Roe and fell asleep.

Local Limavady legend says he awoke surrounded by a soft mist from the river. As he looked out across the river, he realised he was surrounded by the Sidhe (fairies). They began playing the most beautiful, haunting music. The lamenting music echoed his unmatched despair at the ruination of his family, future and the fall of one of Ireland’s oldest kingdoms. Returning to the party, he picked up his harp and replayed the music by ear, swearing that it had come from the Sidhe. The song became known as O’Cahan’s lament.

Down through the following 240 years it began to be played less and less by pipers, fiddlers and harpists, almost forgotten, until in 1851, Limavady schoolteacher and Irish folksong collector Jane Ross heard blind fiddler Jimmy McCurry playing the haunting melody outside her house on Main Street during a fair. She couldn’t help but take note of the pain and sadness of the music against the upbeat fair atmosphere. She invited him in and paid him two shillings for permission to write down the music. She sent the music to a magazine which published the tune as The Londonderry Air.

While many lyrics were written for it throughout the 19th century, it was only in 1910 that Englishman, Frederick Weatherly wrote the ballad Danny Boy which fit the music so effortlessly. The song began to spread across the world. Elvis Presley once called it “music written by the angels,” and it was played at his funeral.

Today the song Danny Boy is believed to be among the three most performed songs in the world, alongside “Happy Birthday to You” and “White Christmas”.

In Limavady it is said, that only music as emotive as this, composed in a moment of utter sorrow, having almost become lost to time, that has entranced the world and finally, which has circled back to be named the same name as Limavady’s last imprisoned lord, Domhnaill (Danny) O’Cathain, could only have come from the fairies.

If you are thinking of visiting where this story took place when you next come home to Ireland, then this little photograph has details on the back. Otherwise the family might enjoy seeing it.

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did sharing it and I will write to you again soon.

Beir bua agus beannacht,

Róisín Hynes

Sliocht sleachta ar shliocht bhur sleachta.

Subscribe now