Transcript

Tá gleann beag in Tír Chonaill. Tá insa ghleann sin 'na chónaí trí theaghlach. Tá acu giota talamh. (Toisc) bhí siad bocht ag troid leis an tsaol is an saol ag troid leofa, is é in amannaí ag fáil svae orthu. Mar ba é an gnás a bhí ins an am sin a[1] lá go rachadh ach fuile[2] dhuine i láthair an tiarna ag ceann deireadh na bliana leis an chíos a dhíol. An bhliain seo cha rabh sí acu. Cha rachadh aon nduine de na fir le labhairt. D'ordaigh achan fhear dona bhean a choil[3]. Chuaigh na mná i láthair an tiarna.

An chéad bhean a chuaigh isteach chuige sé a dúirt sí leis, "Ó, a chroí, ní bhfuil an t-airgead sin agam duid inniu. Caithfidh tú spás a thabhairt domh tamalt eile."

Bhí fearg mhór ar an tiarna nuair a chuala sé seo. "Goidé an t-ábhar a dtáinig tusa murab é do fhear a ba cheart a theacht agus labhairt liom?"

"Ó, a chroí, tá m'fhearsa amaideach, tá m'fhearsa amaideach. Níl a dhath teacht i láthair ann le theacht a labhairt le do mhacasamhailsa."

"Bí amuigh! Bí amuigh!"

Tháinig an darna bean isteach agus dúirt sí an chaint chéanna.

"Goidé a thug tusa anseo?" a deir an tiarna léithe. "Tuige nach dtáinig do fhear? Is é ba cheart a theacht agus labhairt liom."

"Tá m'fhearsa amaideach, tá m'fhearsa amaideach. Níl maith ar bith ann le theacht a labhairt le do mhacasamhailsa ar chor ar bith."

Na[4] tríú bean a tháinig isteach d'ins[5] sise an scéal céanna.

"Goidé an t-ábhar," arsa an tiarna, "a dtáinig tusa anseo a chaint liom? Tuige nár chuir tú d'fhear? Is é ba cheart a theacht. Téigí 'na bhaile anois agus déanaidh achan nduine agaibh amadán de mur[6] bhfear. Cé bith agaibh is fearr a dhéanfas amadán de mur bhfear pronnfaidh mé oraibh an talamh saor ar chíos (fríd mur saol).

An chéad bhean a chuaigh 'na bhaile, "Anois," a deir sí leis an fhear, "téigh amach amáireach i gcionn do spád agus obair go cruaidh (nuair a bhímid ina gceap mhagaidh) i ndéidh achan nduine eile, agus ná bí ag teacht isteach, agus scairtfidh mise ort nuair a bheas an tráth réidh."

Chuaigh sí amach ansin 'na chuibhrinn ar maidin. Nuair a chuaigh... (Nuair a) chuaigh seisean amach thoisigh sise. Chuir sí an t-éadach síos, chuir sí na brístí ar na giorsachaí, na cótaí ar na gasúraí agus chuir sí an dreasúr[7] in áit na tineafa[8], an tinidh in áit an dreasúr, agus cha dtear' sí a dhath dinnéir réidh ar chor ar bith. Thug an t-ocras airsan a theacht isteach ansin, (agus) nuair a tháinig sé a fhad leis an doras dúirt sé, "Bhfuil an dinnéar réidh agad, a bhean udaí?"

"Cé thú?" a deir sí. "Ní thú... Ní seo do theach ar chor ar bith."

D'imigh sé leis ansin - shíl sé féin nárbh é a theach a bhí ann - fríd an chomharsanacht ag cuartú a theach. Nach rabh sin amaideach go leor?

An darna bean, deir sise lena fear, a deir sí, "Is fearr duit a ghoil 'na tsiopa inniu - níl faill agamsa - choinne[9] gráinín (tae is) siúchra."

D'imigh sé 'na tsiopa. Rith sé ar an mhéad a dtiocfadh leis mar a d'iarr sí. Nuair a bhí sé ag teacht ar ais thuit sé thar an chlaí. Ach char chuir sé suim ar bith ansin - bhí ag déanamh nach dtear' sé a dhath air. Ach nuair a tháinig sé isteach 'uig an doras léim sí ina shuí[10] agus rith sí díreach roimhe. Thóg sí a dhá lámh in airde. "Ó, a Dhia!" a deir sí. "Goidé a tháinig ort? Goidé a tháinig ort, a chroí?"

"Cha dtáinig a dhath."

"Ó, a Dhia," a deir sí, "is beag a shíl mise an lá a pósadh muid go mbeinn i mo bhaintreabhach comh luath seo."

Leis sin, scanraigh[11] an croí amach as. Shíl sé féin go dtáinig rud inteacht air agus thuit sé i laige. Streachail sí é isteach 'na leapa. Dúirt sí leis, "Is fearr domh cur choinne an eaglais duid."

Cuireadh choinne an eaglais. Rinn seisean ach fuile cheart leis, (cé ar bith[12]) a ba chóir déanta.

Nuair a d'imigh an t-eaglaiseach deir sí, "Ó, a chroí, is gairid uaid anois. Druid do chuid súile, tá an bás ag teannadh leat."

Dhruid an créatúr sin a chuid súile. Shíl sé go rabh (...).

Translation

There is a little glen in Donegal. Three families live in that glen. They have a little bit of land. They were poor and struggling in life and life was causing them strife, and sometimes getting the better of them. Because the custom was at that time that everyone would go to the landlord at the end of the year to pay the rent. This year they didn't have it. None of the men would go. Each man ordered his wife to go. The women went to the landlord.

The first woman who went into him, what said to him was, "Oh dear, I don't have that money for you today. You'll have to give me a little more time."

The landlord was furious when he heard this. "Why did you come here when it's your husband who should come and speak to me?"

"Oh dear, my husband is foolish, my husband is foolish. He wouldn't be capable of talking to a person of your kind."

"Get out! Get out!"

The second woman came in and she said the same thing.

"What brought you here?" the landlord said to her. "Why didn't your husband come? He is the one who ought to come and talk to me."

"My husband is foolish, my husband is foolish. He doesn't have it in him to come and talk to a person of your kind."

The third woman who came in told the same story.

"Why," said the landlord, "did you come here to speak to me? Why didn't you send your husband? He is the one who ought to come. Go home now all of you and each of you must make a fool of your husbands. Whichever one of you best makes a fool of your husband I will grant you the land rent free for life.

The first woman went home, "Now," she said to her husband, "go out tomorrow with your spade and work hard so that we won't be the laughing stock (?) of everybody else, and don't be coming in, and I will call you when your meal is ready."

She went out with him in the morning. When he went... When he went out she got started. She took out the clothes, she put trousers on the girls and dresses on the boys and she put the dresser in front of the fireplace, the fire in the dresser's place, and she didn't prepare any dinner at all. The hunger made him come home then, and when he came to the door he said, "Have you prepared the dinner, woman?"

"Who are you?" she said. "You're not... This isn't your house at all."

He went away then – he thought it wasn't his house – through the neighbourhood looking for his house. Wasn't that foolish enough?

The second woman, she said to her husband, she said, "You had better go to the shop today – I don't have time – for some tea and sugar."

He went to the shop. He ran as well as he could as she had requested. When he was coming back he fell over the wall. But he paid it no attention – he thought it hadn't done him any harm. But when he came in the door she jumped up and ran straight towards him. She threw up her arms. "Oh, God!" she said. "What happened to you? What happened to you, my love?"

"Nothing happened."

"Oh, God," she says, "little did I think the day I got married that I would be a widow this soon."

At that, he got the fright of his life. He thought there was something wrong with him and he fainted. She dragged him into bed. She said to him, "I'd better send for a clergyman for you."

A clergyman was sent for. He did everything for him, everything that needed to be done.

When the clergyman left she said, "Oh, my love, there's not long to go now. Close your eyes, death is drawing near."

The poor creature closed his eyes. He thought there was (...).

Footnotes

Commentary

This appears to be an international folktale, ATU 1332 Which is the greatest fool? An early example was documented in India in the eleventh century, but it does not seem to be hugely common in Europe. Several versions have been found in northern Europe, some from England and some from Italy. See Hans Jorg Uther, The types of international folktales: a classification and bibliography (3 vols, Helsinki, 2004). The story is not recorded at all in Seán Ó Súilleabháin and Rieder Th. Christiansen's The types of the Irish folktale (Helsinki, 1968), implying that it is a relatively rare story type in Ireland.

This story is transcribed also in Róise Ní Bhaoill, Ulster Gaelic voices: bailiúchán Doegen 1931 (Belfast, 2010), 148-53.