The Essential Celtic Folklore Collection. Lady Gregory

Kavin. 'Call down your goose here,' says he, 'and I'll see what I can do for her.'

      "'With that the king whistled, and down kem the poor goose, all as one as a hound, waddlin' up to the poor ould cripple, her masther, and as like him as two pays. The minute the saint clapt his eyes an the goose, 'I'll do 'the job for you,' says he, 'King O'Toole!'

      "'By Jaminee,' says King O'Toole, 'if you do, bud I'll say you're the cleverest fellow in the aivin parishes.'

      "'Oh, by dad,' says Saint Kavin, "you must say more nor that - my horn's not so soft all out,' says he, 'as to repair your ould goose for nothing '; what'll you gi' me, if I do the job for you?--that's the chat,' says Saint Kavin.

      "'I'll give you whatever you ax,' says the king; 'isn't that fair?'

      "'Divil a fairer,' says the saint; 'that's the way to do business. Now,' says he, 'this is the bargain I'll make with you, King O'Toole: will you gi' me all the ground the goose flies, over the first offer afther I make her as good as new?'

      "'I will,' says the king.

      "'You won't go back o' your word?' says Saint Kavin.

      "'Honour bright!' says King O'Toole, howldin' out his fist."

      Here old Joe, after applying his hand to his mouth, and making a sharp, blowing sound (something like "thp"), extended it to illustrate the action.

      "'Honour bright,' says Saint Kavin back agin, 'it's a bargain,' says he. 'Come here!' says he to the poor ould goose--'come here, you unfort'nate ould cripple,' says he, 'and it's I that'll make you the sportin' bird.'

      "With that, my dear, he tuk up the goose by the two wings--'Criss o' my crass and you,' says he, markin' her to grace with the blessed sign at the same minute--and throwin' her up in the air, 'whew!' says he, jist givin' her a blast to help her; and with that, my jewel, she tuk, to her heels, flyin' like one o' the aigles themselves, and cuttin' as many capers as a swallow before a shower of rain. Away she went down there, right fornist you, along the side o' the clift, and flew over Saint Kavin's bed (that is where Saint Kavin's bed is now, but was not thin, by raison it wasn't made, but was conthrived afther by Saint Kavin himself, that the women might lava him alone), and on with her undher Lugduff and round the ind av the lake there, far beyant where you see the watherfall (though indeed it's no watherfall at all now, but only a poor dhribble iv a thing; but if you seen it In the winther, it id do your heart good, and it roarin' like mad, and as white as the dhriven snow, and rowlin' down the big rooks before it, all as one as childher playin' marbles)--and on with her thin right over the lead mines o' Luganure (that is where the lead mines is now, but was not thin, by raison they worn't discovered, but was all goold in Saint Kavin's time).

      "Well, over the ind o' Luganure she flew, stout and sturdy, and round the other ind av the little lake, by the Churches (that is, av coorse, where the Churches is now, but was not thin, by raison they wor not built, but aftherwards by Saint Kavin), and over the big hill here over your head, where you see the big clift--(and that clift in the mountain was made by Fan Ma Cool, where he cut it acrass with a big swoord that he got made a purpose by a blacksmith out o' Ruthdrum, a cousin av his own, for to fight a joyant [giant] that darr'd him an the Curragh o' Kildare; and he thried the swoord first an the mountain, and out it down into a gap, as is plain to this day; and faith, sure enough, it's the same sauce he sarv'd the joyant, soon and suddent, and chopped him in two like a pratie, for the glory of his sowl and owld lreland)--well, down she flew over the clift, and fluttberin', over the wood there at Poulanass (where I showed you the purty watherfall--and by the same token, last Thursday was a twelve monthsence, a young lady, Miss Rafferty by name, fell into the same watherfall, and was nigh-hand drownded--and indeed would be to this day, but for a young man that jumped in afther her; indeed, a smart slip iv a young man he was--he was out o' Francis Street, I hear, and coorted her sence, and they wor married, Fm given to undherstand--and indeed a purty couple they wor). Well, as I said, afther fluttherin' over the wood a little bit, to plaze herself, the goose flew down, and lit at the fut o' the king, as fresh as a daisy, afther flyin' roun' his dominions, just as if she hadn't flew three perch.

      "Well, my dear, it was a beautiful sight to see the king standin' with his mouth open, lookin' at his poor ould goose flyin' as light as a lark, and betther nor ever she was; and when, she lit at his fut, he patted her an the head, and 'Mavourneen,' says he, 'but you are the darlint o' the world.'

      "'And what do you say to me,' says Saint Kavin, 'for makin' her the like?'

      "'By gor,' says the king, 'I say nothin' bates the art o' man, barrin' the bees.'

      "'And do you say no more nor that?, says Saint Kavin.

      "'And that I'm behoulden to you,' says the king.

      "'But will you gi'e me all the ground the goose flewn over?' says Saint Kavin.

      "'I will,' says King O'TooIe. 'And you're welkim to it,' says he, 'though it's the last acre I have to give.'

      "'But you'll keep your word thrue' says the saint.

      "'As thrue as the sun,' says the king.

      "'It's well for you,' says Saint Kavin, mighty sharp--' it's well for you, King O'Toole, that you said that word,' says he; 'for if you didn't say that word, the divil receave the bit o' your goose id ever fly agin,' says Saint Kavin.

      "Oh! you needn't laugh," said old Joe, half offended at detecting the trace of a suppressed smile; "you needn't laugh, for it's thruth I'm tellin' you.

      "Well, whin the king was as good as his word, Saint Kavin was plased with him, and thin it was that he made himself known to the king. 'And,' says he, 'King O'Toole, you're a decent man,' says he, 'for I only kem here to thry you. You don't know me,' says he, 'bekase I'm disguised.' [A person in a state of drunkenness is said to be disguised.]

      "'Troth, then, you're right enough,' says the king. 'I didn't perceave it,' says he; 'for, indeed, I never seen the sign o' aper'ts an you.'

      "'Oh! that's not what I mane,' says Saint Kavin. 'I mane I'm deceavin' you all out, and that I'm not myself at all.'

      "'Blur-an-agers! thin,' says the king, 'if you're not yourself, who are you?'

      "'I'm Saint Kavin,' said the saint, bleesin' himself.

      "'Oh, queen iv heaven!" says the king, makin' the sign o' the crass betune his eyes, and fallin' down on his knees before the saint. 'Is it the great Saint Kavin,' says he, 'that I've been discoorsin' all this time without knowin' it,' says he, 'all as one as if he was a lump iv a gosson? And so you're a saint?' says the king.

      "'I am,' says Saint Kavin.

      "'By gor, I thought I was only talking to a decent boy,' says the king.

      "'Well, you know the differ now,' says the saint. 'I'm Saint Kavin,' says he, 'the greatest of all the saints.'

      "For Saint Kavin, you must know, sir," added Joe, treating me to another parenthesis, "Saint Kavin is counted the greatest of all the saints, bekase he went to school with the prophet Jeremiah.

      "Well, my dear, that's the way that the place kem, all at wanst, into the hands of Saint Kavin; for the goose flewn round every individyial acre o' King O' Toole's property, you see, bein' let into the saycret by Saint Kavin, who was mighty cute; and so, when he done the ould king out iv his property for the glory of God, he was plased with him, and he and the king was the best o' frinds ivermore afther (for the poor ould king was doatin', you see), and the king had his goose as good as new to divert him as long as be lived; and the saint supported him afther he kem into his property, as I tould you, antil the day iv his death--and that was soon afther; for the poor goose thought he was ketchin' a throut one Friday, but, my jewel, it was a mistake he made, and instead of a throut, It was a thievin' horse-eel, and, by gor! instead iv the goose killin' a throut for the king's supper, by dad! the eel killed the king's goose, and small blame to him; but he didn't ate her, bekase he darn't