There was once a blacksmith by the name of Flynn and he had a forge some where in Corderay on Shancurry. He was looked on as one of the best smiths for miles and miles around. Well at that time there were horses going to and coming from Sligo every day, and from early morning till well into the night the smith was never idle.
Every night the boys met at the forge and talked about many things.
Well no matter what strange story was told Smith never seemed to take any interest in it, as he was always engrossed in his work. Seldom or ever did he ask a question. Flynn was a deep thinking man and one that could keep a secret. Many a stranger called at the forge and many a strange thing was heard and kept. This blacksmith was the queer man.