Voices on the Wind Comical Voices
The three of them (from Pound Laundry) by Michael Gregory So the three of them—Lugh, the Dagda and Manannan mac Lir one late mid-May afternoon were walking in the earth when an old peat-bogger out tending his hives saw them and though having not the slightest who they were or what their business here where the only snakes are those in office invited them to share his fire that night as was the custom in those more courteous times. While the cabbage and turnips boiled the jar went round a time or two and Lugh told him. Once he recovered, Paddy good as any Greek sacrificed the one bullock he’d had to plow his field. As that taurine aroma filled the cottage Lugh asked him what he would have if he could. Though he would he said keep his word to his late wife not to remarry he’d be glad all the same he said of a son to bring light to his remaining nights. After passing the jar so many times you would have thought it should be dry, and so enjoying the bull you would think it would be gone, the three took up the fresh hide and pissed in it, laid it with a wave of hands and signs in the grave of the old man’s wife then left without a word. Ten months later the hide was reborn as the handsomest son ever to gaze on the moon, a fair-faced lad the father named with a twinkle in his eye O’Ryan.