THE BANSHEE’S COMB
“Dhrink it all,” he says, “an’ then we’ll escorch ye home. Come on,” says he.
The masther of the night-time turned an’ shouted to his subjects. “Boys,” he cried, “we’ll go wisible, the betther for company sake. An’ do you make the ’luminaytion so Darby can see yez with him!”
At that the lovely rosy light which, as you may raymember, our hayro first saw in the fairy’s home at Sleive-na-mon, lighted up the roadway, an’ undher the leafy arches, bobbin’ along like a ridgement of sojers, all in their green cloaks an’ red caps, marched at laste a thousand of the Little People, with Phadrig Oge at their head actin’ as gineral.
As they passed the mill foive dayfiant pipers med
the batthered ould windys rattle with “Garry Owen.”
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