Last night I was visiting Mc Sweeny’s and I asked Ellen to tell me a story about the fairies.
I will surely she said.
The following is the storey [sic] she told me.
One day Tommy McSweeny fell asleep against a little mound in the corner of the field above his own house. He was half asleep. First he heard beautiful singing and then he saw a crowd of little men dressed all in red. He saw them hauling their boats down to the shore and putting them out on the tide.
He watched them in astonishment. With the letting down of their nets they disappeared and it is said that the fishing failed at Mullinasole after. This man seems to have been a favourite of the fairies for he woke one day at a sgeac [?] bush with a florin in his hand that hadn’t