Folk Tales and Fairy Lore/Sìtheach Choire Osbainn agus an Tàillear, The Fairy of Corrie Osben
Bha bean cìobair an Coire Osbainn aig an robh leanabh a dh' fhàs ro chrosda agus duilich a bhanaltrachadh. Cha robh fios aice féin no aig a fear ciod a bha air an leanabh, no ciod a dheanadh iad ris, gus an d'thàinig an Tàillear a dheanamh aodaich de dh' eige chlòtha air ùr-thighinn as a' mhuileann luaidh. Air an ath latha an déidh dha tighinn, chaidh bean a' chìobair do'n àite-mhòine, agus dh' fhàg i an leanabh air a chùram gus an tilleadh i. Goirid an déidh dhi falbh, gu dé an a chuala an Tàillear air a chùlaibh ach ceòl binn na pìoba móire. Sheall e an rathad as an d'thàinig an ceòl, agus co a chunnaic e 'na shuidhe anns leabadh, ach seann duine beag, liath, le feadan connlaich 'na bheul, agus e ag cur ri port a chluich ris am bheil na rainn a leanas air an seinn:
In Corrie Osben lived a shepherd's wife, whose child grew very peevish and difficult to nurse. Neither she nor her husband knew what was the matter with the child, or what was to be done with him, until the tailor came to make clothes of a web of home-made cloth newly come from the walking-mill. Next day after his arrival, the shepherd's wife went to the peat-moss, and left the child under his care till she should return. Shortly after she went away, what did the tailor hear behind him but the sweet music of the bag-pipes. He looked the way whence the music came, and whom did he see sitting in the bed but a little old grey-headed man with a pipe of straw in his mouth, busy playing a tune, to which the following verses are sung:—
Uist Oireannainn! Uist O thì!
'S fhada tha a' chaile gun tighinn
'S gu'm faigheadh an Cannan cìoch.
Uist Oireannainn, etc.
Hush! Oranan, Hush! Oheé!.
Long is the lassie of coming
To give the Cannan a wee.
Hush! Oranan, etc.
Chum e air a' phort so a sheinn gus an cuala e am boirionnach a' tighinn. An sin sguir an ceòl, agus bha e 'na leanabh beag a rithist.
He kept playing this tune until he heard the woman coming; then the music ceased, and he was again a little child.
Cha d'innis an Tàillear do'n mhnaoi ni de na chunnaic is a chuala e am fad is a bha i air falbh. Air an ath latha an déidh dhi dol do'n àite-mhòine, ghabh e ubh, thug e am biadh as, lìon e am plaosg le uisge, agus chuir e taobh an teine e. Bha ioghnadh cho mór air a' bhodachan de'n ni a chunnaic e is gu'n do thionndaidh e nall is gu'n d'thubhairt e: "Gu dé a tha thu a' dol a dheanamh le sin, a Thàilleir?" "Tha mi a' dol a theasachadh uisge a bhogadh bracha," ars an Tàillear. "Ma-tà tha mi còrr agus ceud bliadhna dh' aois, agus gu so cha'n fhaca mi ballan-uibhe a' dol a theasachadh uisge a bhogadh bracha,' ars an duine beag, is e a' tionndadh a null agus a' tòiseachadh a rithist air cluich air an fheadan chonnlaich. Chum e ag cluich puirt an là roimhe gus an cuala e a' bhean a' tighinn, agus an sin bha e aon uair eile 'na leanabh beag.
The tailor told the woman nothing of what he had seen and heard while she was absent. Next day, when she went a second time to the peat-moss, he took an egg, emptied the shell of its contents, filled it with water, and placed it near the fire. The little old mannie's curiosity was so much excited by what he saw that he turned round and said: "What are you going to do with that, tailor?" "I am going to heat water to steep malt in," said the tailor. "Well, I am more than a hundred years old, and never till now did I see an eggshell used to heat water for steeping malt in," said the little man, as he turned away and began again to play on his straw-pipe. He kept playing the tune of the day before until he heard the woman coming, and then he once more became a little child.
Air an treas là dh' innis an Tàillear do 'n mhnaoi ciod air an robh e 'na fhianuis, agus a bharail nach robh anns an leanabh ach sìthiche. "Agus ciod a nì mise ris?" dh' fheòraich a' bhean. "Thoir leat e," ars an Tàillear, gus an t-eas 's a' choimhearsnachd, agus tilg a sìos e thar na bruaich do 'n uisge." Rinn a' bhean mar dh' iarradh oirre. Ach cha bu luaithe a bhean an leanabh do'n uisge na dh' fhàs e 'na dhuineachan beag, liath. Dh' éirich e an sin air a chasan ann an corruich mhóir, agus streap e suas ri taobh cas an easa, a' bagradh dìoghaltais air a' mhnaoi, na'm beireadh e oirre. Ach chuir ise 'sna. buinn cho luath is a b' urrainn i, agus cha d' amhairc i 'na déidh gus an do ràinig i an tigh, far an d'fhuair i a leanabh féin air a fhàgail aig an dorus roimpe.
On the third day, the tailor told the woman what he had witnessed, and his opinion that the child was nothing but a fairy. "And what am I to do with him?" asked the woman. "Take him," said the tailor, "to the neighouring ravine, and throw him over the bank into the water below." The woman did as she was told, but no sooner had the child touched the water than he became a little grey manikin. He then rose to his feet in a great rage, and scrambled up the steep side of the ravine, threatening the woman with vengeance if he overtook her. But she took to her heels as fast as she could, and never looked behind her until she arrived at the house, where she found her own child laid at the door before her.