Free Irish Folk Tales by Henry Glassie

him under the mouth of a douac, a great vessel of some sort. He went out and brought in the son of the king of Ireland, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, and they spent that night, one-third of it telling Fenian stories, one-third telling tales, and one-third in the mild enjoyment of slumber and of true sleep until morning.
    In the morning, the day on the morrow, the short green man brought the king’s son and his people out of the castle, and left them at the head of the avenue, and he went back himself and asked the giant for the old slippers that were left under the head of his bed.
    The giant said that he would give his master a pair of boots as good as ever he wore, and what good was there in the old slippers?
    The short green man said that unless he got the slippers he would go for his master to whip the head off him.
    Then the giant said that he would give them to him, and he gave them.
    “Any time,” said he, “that you will put those slippers on you, and say ‘high-over!’ any place you have a mind to go to, you will be in it.”
    The son of the king of Ireland, the short green man, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, went forward until evening came, and the end of the day,until the horse would be going under the shade of the docking, and the docking would not wait for him. The king’s son asked the short green man where should they be that night, and the short green man said that they would be in the house of the brother of the giant with whom they spent the night before. The king’s son looked from him and he saw nothing. The short green man looked from him and he saw a great castle. He left the king’s son and his people there, and he went to the castle by himself, and he drew the
coolaya-coric
, and he did not leave child with woman, foal with mare, pigeen with pig, or badger in glen, but he turned them over three times with all the sound he struck out of the
coolaya-coric
. The giant came out, and he said: “I feel the smell of a melodious lying Irishman under my sod of country.”
    “No melodious lying Irishman am I,” said the short green man. “But my master is standing at the head of the avenue, and if he comes he shall strike the head off you.”
    And with that the short green man began swelling until he was the size of the castle at last. There came fear on the giant, and he said: “Is your master as big as yourself?”
    “He is,” said the short green man, “and bigger.”
    “Oh! put me in hiding, put me in hiding,” said the giant, “until your master goes. And anything you will be asking you must get it.”
    He took the giant with him, and he put him under the mouth of a douac, and a lock on him. He came back, and he brought the king of Ireland’s son, the gunman, the earman, the footman, the blowman, and the man who broke stones with the side of his thigh, into the castle with him, and they spent that night merrily—a third of it with Fenian tales, a third of it with telling stories, and a third of it with the mild enjoyment of slumber and of true sleep.
    In the morning, the day on the morrow, he brought the son of the king of Ireland out, and his people with him, and left them at the head of the avenue, and he came back himself and loosed out the giant, and said to him, that he must give him the rusty sword that was under the corner of his bed. The giant said that he would not give that old sword to anyone, but that he would give him the sword of the three edges that never left the leavings of a blow behind it, or if it did, it would take it with the second blow.
    “I won’t have that,” said the short green man, “I must get the rusty sword. And if I don’t get that, I must go for my master, and he shall strike the head off you.”
    “It is better for me to give it to you,” said the giant, “and whatever place you will strike a