There was once a poor woman living in a small house beside a river. She used to be spinning every day and one evening a small man came in. He said to her that he would spin the wool for her [but?] that she must have his name when he would come back with it. She refused to give it to him until he would tell her his name. He said he was sitting on his first name and that his second name was about his neck. She gave it to him and about sun-set the next evening he had the thread spun for her. Then he asked her his name and she said Cathaoir Ó Cábhair.