[Note from Neil: John McKenzie
was my great great grandfather and was a first cousin to the piper, John
Ban McKenzie. John (my gg Grandfather) was a piper at Ardmaddy Castle,
until 1823, when he went to Loch Fyne to become a fisherman. He was
born in Kilbrandon and died February 7, 1884 in Kenmore (Ceanmore) on
Lochfyneside, near Inveraray, where he had dictated the enclosed story to
Hector Urquhart. He married Janet McVicar, the daughter of John McVicar
and Sarah McKenzie. His daughter Isabella married my great grandfather,
There was once a time when every
creature and bird was gathering to battle. The son of the king of
Tethertown (Na Cathair Shěomain. Heather ropes are used for binding thatch
on Highland cottages) said, that he would go to see the battle, and that
he would bring sure word home to his father the king, who would be king of
the creatures this year. The battle was over before he arrived all but one
(fight), between a great black raven and a snake, and it seemed as if the
snake would get the victory over the raven. When the King's son saw this,
he helped the raven, and with one blow takes the head off the snake. When
the raven had taken breath, and saw that the snake was dead, he said, "For
thy kindness to me this day, I will give thee a sight. Come up now on the
root of my two wings." The king's son mounted upon the raven, and, before
he stopped, he took him over seven Bens, and seven Glens, and seven
"Now," said the raven, "seest thou that
house yonder? Go now to it. It is a sister of mine that makes her dwelling
in it; and I will go bail that thou art welcome. And if she asks thee,
Wert thou at the battle of the birds? say thou that thou wert. And if she
asks, Didst thou see my likeness? say that thou sawest it. But be sure
that thou meetest me to morrow morning here, in this place." The king's
son got good and right good treatment this night. Meat of each meat, drink
of each drink, warm water to his feet, and a soft bed for his limbs.
On the next day the raven gave him the
same sight over seven Bens, and seven Glens, and seven Mountain moors.
They saw a bothy far off, but, though far off, they were soon there. He
got good treatment this night, as before - plenty of meat and drink, and
warm water to his feet, and a soft bed to his limbs and on the next day it
was the same thing.
On the third morning, instead of seeing
the raven as at the other times, who should meet him but the handsomest
lad he ever saw, with a bundle in his hand. The king's son asked this lad
if he had seen a big black raven. Said the lad to him, "Thou wilt never
see the raven again, for I am that raven. I was put under spells; it was
meeting thee that loosed me, and for that thou art getting this bundle.
Now," said the lad, "thou wilt turn back on the self same steps, and thou
wilt lie a night in each house, as thou wert before; but thy lot is not to
lose the bundle which I gave thee, till thou art in the place where thou
wouldst most wish to dwell."
The king's son turned his back to the
lad, and his face to his father's house; and , he got lodging from the
raven's sisters, Just as he got it when going forward. When he was nearing
his fathees house he was going through a close wood. It seemed to him that
the bundle was growing heavy, and he thought he would look what was in it.
When he loosed the bundle, it was not
without astonishing himself. In a twinkling he sees the very grandest
place he ever saw. A great castle, and an orchard about the castle, in
which was every kind of fruit and herb. He stood full of wonder and regret
for having loosed the bundle - it was not in his power to put it back
again - and he would have wished this pretty place to be in the pretty
little green hollow that was opposite his father's house; but, at one
glance, he sees a great giant coming towards him.
"Bad's the place where thou hast built
thy house, king's son," says the giant. "Yes, but it is not here I would
wish it to be, though it happened to be here by mishap," says the king's
son. "What's the reward thou wouldst give me for putting it back in the
bundle as it was before?" "What's the reward thou wouldst ask?" says the
king's son. "If thou wilt give me the first son thou hast when he is seven
years of age," says the giant. "Thou wilt get that if I have a son," said
the king's son.
In a twinkling the giant put each
garden, and orchard, and castle in the bundle as they were before. "Now,"
says the giant, "take thou thine own road, and I will take my road; but
mind thy promise, and though thou shouldst forget, I will remember."
The king's son took to the road, and at
the end of a few days he reached the place he was fondest of. He loosed
the bundle, and the same place was just as it was before. And when he
opened the castle-door he sees the handsomest maiden he ever cast eye
upon. "Advance, king's son," said the pretty maid; "everything is in order
for thee, if thou wilt marry me this very night." "It's I am the man that
is willing," said the king's son. And on the same night they married.
But at the end of a day and seven years,
what great man is seen coming to the castle but the giant. The king's son
minded his promise to the giant, and till now he had not told his promise
to the queen. "Leave thou (the matter) between me and the giant." says the
"Turn out thy son," says the giant;
"mind your promise." "Thou wilt get that," says the king, "when his mother
puts him in order for his journey." The queen arrayed the cook's son, and
she gave him to the giant by the hand. The giant went away with him; but
he had not gone far when he put a rod in the hand of the little laddie.
The giant asked him - "If thy father had that rod what would he do with
it?" "If my father had that rod he would beat the dogs and the cats, if
they would be going near the king's meat," said the little laddie. "Thou'rt
the cook's son," said the giant. He catches him by the two small ankles
and knocks him - "Sgleog" - against the stone that was beside him. The
giant turned back to the castle in rage and madness, and he said that if
they did not turn out the king's son to him, the highest stone of the
castle would be the lowest. Said the queen to the king, "we'll try it yet;
the butler's son is of the same age as our son." She arrayed the butler's
son, and she gives him to the giant by the hand. The giant had not gone
far when he put the rod in his hand. "If thy father had that rod," says
the giant, "what would he do with it?" "He would beat the dogs and the
cats when they would be coming near the king's bottles and glasses." "Thou
art the son of the butler," says the giant, and dashed his brains out too.
The giant returned in very great rage and anger. The earth shook under the
sole of his feet, and the castle shook and all that was in it. "OUT HERE
THY SON," says the giant, "or in a twinkling the stone that is highest in
the dwelling will be the lowest." So needs must they had to give the
king's son to the giant.
The giant took him to his own house, and
he reared him as his own son. On a day of days when the giant was from
home, the lad heard the sweetest music he ever heard in a room at the top
of the giant's house. At a glance he saw the finest face he had ever seen.
She beckoned to him to come a bit nearer to her, and she told him to go
this time, but to be sure to be at the same place about that dead
And as he promised he did. The giant's
daughter was at his side in a twinkling, and she said, "Tomorrow thou wilt
get the choice of my two sisters to marry; but say thou that thou wilt not
take either, but me. My father wants me to marry the son of the king of
the Green City, but I don't like him. " On the morrow the giant took out
his three daughters, and he said, "Now son of the king of Tethertown, thou
hast not lost by living with me so long. Thou wilt get to wife one of the
two eldest of my daughters, and with her leave to go home with her the day
after the wedding." "If thou wilt give me this pretty little one," says
the king's son, "I will take thee at thy word."
The giant's wrath kindled, and he said,
"Before thou gett'st her thou must do the three things that I ask thee to
do." "Say on," says the king's son. The giant took him to the byre. "Now,"
says the giant, "the dung of a hundred cattle is here, and it has not been
cleansed for seven years. I am going from home to-day, and if this byre is
not cleaned before night comes, so clean that a golden apple will run from
end to end of it, not only thou shalt not get my daughter, but 'tis a
drink of thy blood that will quench my thirst this night." He begins
cleaning the byre, but it was just as well to keep baling the great ocean.
After mid-day, when sweat was blinding him, the giant's young daughter
came where he was, and she said to him, "Thou art being punished, king's
son." "I am that," says the king's son. "Come over," says she, "and lay
down thy weariness." "I will do that," says he, "there is but death
awaiting me, at any rate." He sat down near her. He was so tired that he
fell asleep beside her. When he awoke, the giant's daughter was not to be
seen, but the byre was so well cleaned that a golden apple would run from
end to end of it. In comes the giant, and he said, "Thou hast cleaned the
byre, king's son?" "I have cleaned it," says he. "Somebody cleaned it,"
says the giant. `Thou didst not clean it, at all events," said the king's
son. "Yes, yes!" says the giant, "since thou wert so active to day, thou
wilt get to this time to-morrow to thatch this byre with birds' down birds
with no two feathers of one colour." The king's son was on foot before the
sun; he caught up his bow and his quiver of arrows to kill the birds. He
took to the moors, but if he did, the birds were not so easy to take. He
was running after them till the sweat was blinding him. About mid-day who
should come but the giant's daughter. "Thou art exhausting thyself, king's
son," says she. "I am," said he. "There fell but these two blackbirds, and
both of one colour." "Come over and lay down thy weariness on this pretty
hillock," says the giant's daughter. "It's I am willing," said he. He
thought she would aid him this time, too, and he sat down near her, and he
was not long there till he fen asleep.
When he awoke, the giant's daughter was
gone. He thought he would go back to the house, and he sees the byre
thatched with the feathers. When the giant came home, he said, "Thou hast
thatched the byre, king's son?" "I thatched it," says he. "Somebody
thatched it," says the giant. "Thou didst not thatch it," says the king's
son. "Yes, yes!" says the giant. "Now," says the giant, "there is a fir
tree beside that loch down there, and there is a magpie's nest in its top.
The eggs thou wilt find in the nest. I must have them for my first meal.
Not one must be burst or broken, and there are five in the nest." Early in
the morning the king's son went where the tree was, and that tree was not
hard to hit upon. Its match was not in the whole wood. From the foot to
the first branch was five hundred feet. The king's son was going all round
the tree. She came who was always bringing help to him; "Thou art losing
the skin of thy hands and feet." "Ach! I am," says he. "I am no sooner up
than down." "This is no time for stopping," says the giant's daughter. She
thrust finger after finger into the tree, till she made a ladder for the
king's son to go up to the magpie's nest. When he was at the nest, she
said, "Make haste now with the eggs, for my father's breath is burning my
back." In his hurry she left her little finger in the top of the tree.
"Now," says she, "thou wilt go home with the eggs quickly, and thou wilt
get me to marry to night if thou canst know me. I and my two sisters will
be arrayed in the same garments, and made like each other, but look at me
when my father says, Go to thy wife, king's son; and thou wilt see a hand
without a little finger." He gave the eggs to the giant. "Yes, yes!" says
the giant, "be making ready for thy marriage."
Then indeed there was a wedding, and it
was a wedding! Giants and gentlemen, and the son of the king of the
Green City was in the midst of them. They were married, and the dancing
began, and that was a dance? The giant's house was shaking from top to
bottom. But bed time came, and the giant said, "It is time for thee to go
to rest, son of the king of Tethertown; take thy bride with thee from
She put out the hand off which the
little finger was, and he caught her by the hand.
"Thou hast aimed well this time too; but
there is no knowing but we may meet thee another way," said the giant.
But to rest they went. "Now," says she,
"sleep not, or else thou diest. We must fly quick, quick, or for certain
my father will kill thee."
Out they went, and on the blue gray
filly in the stable they mounted. "Stop a while," says she, "and I will
play a trick to the old hero." She jumped in, and cut an apple into nine
shares, and she put two shares at the head of the bed, and two shares at
the foot of the bed, and two shares at the door of the kitchen, and two
shares at the big door, and one outside the house.
The giant awoke and called, "Are you
asleep?" "We are not yet," said the apple that was at the head of the bed.
At the end of a while he called again. "We are not yet," said the apple
that was at the foot of the bed. A while after this he called again. "We
are not yet," said the apple at the kitchen door. The giant called again.
T'he apple that was at the big door answered "You are now going far from
me," says the giant. "We are not yet," says the apple that was outside the
house. "You are flying," says the giant. The giant jumped on his feet, and
to the bed he went, but it was cold empty.
"My own daughter's tricks are trying
me," said the giant. "Here's after them," says he.
In the mouth of day, the giant's
daughter said that her father's breath was burning her back. "Put thy
hand, quick," said she, "in the ear of the gray filly, and whatever thou
findest in it, throw it behind thee." "There is a twig of sloe tree," said
he. "Throw it behind thee," said she.
No sooner did he that, than there were
twenty miles of black thorn wood, so thick that scarce a weasel could go
through it. The giant came headlong, and there he is fleecing his head and
neck in the thorns.
"My own daughter's tricks are here as
before," said the giant; "but if I had my own big axe and wood knife here,
I would not be long making a way through this." He went home for the big
axe and the wood knife, and sure he was not long on his journey, and he
was the boy behind the big axe. He was not long making a way through the
black thorn. "I will leave the axe and the wood knife here till I return,"
says he. "If thou leave them," said a Hoodie (The principal Gaelic vowels
bear some resemblance to the cawing of a hoodie. They are all broad A.)
that was in a tree, "we will steal them."
"You will do that same," says the giant,
"but I will set them home." He returned and left them at the house. At the
heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath burning her
"Put thy finger in the filly's ear, and
throw behind thee whatever thou findest in it." He got a splinter of gray
stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height,
of great gray rock behind them. The giant came full pelt, but past the
rock he could not go.
"The tricks of my own daughter are the
hardest things that ever met me," says the giant; "but if I had my lever
and my mighty mattock. I would not be long making my way through this rock
also." There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he
was the boy to split the stones. He was not long making a road through the
rock. "I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more." "If thou
leave them," says the hoodie, "we will steal them." "Do that if thou wilt;
there is no time to go back." At the time of breaking the watch, the
giant's daughter said that she was feeling her father's breath burning her
back. "Look in the filly's ear, king's son, or else we are lost." He did
so, and it was a bladder of water that was in her ear this time. He threw
it behind him and there was a fresh water loch, twenty miles in length and
breadth, behind them.
The giant came on, but with the speed he
had on him, he was in the middle of the loch, and he went under, and he
rose no more.
On the next day the young companions
were come in sight of his father's house. "Now." said she., "my father is
drowned, and he won't trouble us any more; but before we go further," says
she, "go thou to thy father's house, and tell that thou hast the like of
me; but this is thy lot, let neither man nor creature kiss thee, for if
thou dost thou wilt not remember that thou hast ever seen me." Every one
he met was giving him welcome and luck, and he charged his father and
mother not to kiss him; but as mishap was to be, an old grey hound was in
and she knew him, and jumped up to his mouth, and after that he did not
remember the giant's daughter.
She was sitting at the well's side as he
left her, but the king's son was not coming. In the mouth of night she
climbed up into a tree of oak that was beside the well, and she lay in the
fork of the tree all that night. A shoemaker had a house near the well,
and about mid day on the morrow, the shoemaker asked his wife to go for a
drink for him out of the well. When the shoemaker’s wife reached the well,
and when she saw the shadow of her that was in the tree, thinking of it
that it was her own shadow - and she never thought till now that she was
so handsome - she gave a cast to the dish that was in her hand, and it was
broken on the ground, and she took herself to the house without vessel or
"Where is the water, wife?" said the
shoemaker. "Thou shambling, contemptible old carle, without grace, I have
stayed too long thy water and wood thrall. (Trŕill, a slave.)" "I am
thinking, wife, that thou hast turned crazy. Go thou, daughter, quickly,
and fetch a drink for thy father." His daughter went, and in the same way
so it happened to her. She never thought till now that she was so
loveable, and she took herself home. "Up with the drink," said her father.
"Thou hume-spun (Peillag, felt, coarse cloth.) shoe carle, dost thou think
that I am fit to be thy thrall." The poor shoemaker thought that they had
taken a turn in their understandings, and he went himself to the well. He
saw the shadow of the maiden in the well, and he looked up to the tree,
and he sees the finest woman he ever saw. "Thy seat is wavering, but thy
face is fair," said the shoemaker. "Come down, for there is need of thee
for a short while at my house." The shoemaker understood that this was the
shadow that had driven his people mad, The shoemaker took her to his
house, and he said that he had but a poor bothy, but that she should get a
share of all that was in it. At the end of a day or two came a leash of
gentlemen lads to the shoemaker's house for shoes to be made them, for the
king had come home, and he was going to marry. The glance the lads gave
they saw the giant's daughter, and if they saw her, they never saw one so
pretty as she. " 'Tis thou hast the pretty daughter here," said the lads
to the shoemaker. "She is pretty, indeed," says the shoemaker, "but she is
no daughter of mine." "St. Nail!" said one of them, "I would give a
hundred pounds to marry her." The two others said the very same. The poor
shoemaker said that he had nothing to do with her. "But," said they, "ask
her to-night, and send us word to-morrow." When the gentles went away, she
asked the shoemaker "What's that they were saying about me?" The shoemaker
told her. "Go thou after them," said she; "I will marry one of them, and
let him bring his purse with him." The youth returned, and he gave the
shoemaker a hundred pounds for tocher. They went to rest, and when she had
laid down, she asked the lad for a drink of water from a tumbler that was
on the board on the further side of the chamber. He went; but out of that
he could not come, as he held the vessel of water the length of the night.
"Thou lad," said she, "why wilt thou not lie down?" but out of that he
could not drag till the bright morrow's day was. The shoemaker came to the
door of the chamber, and she asked him to take away that lubberly boy.
This wooer went and betook himself to his home, but he did not tell the
other two how it happened to him. Next came the second chap, and in the
same way, when she had gone to rest - "Look," she said, "if the latch is
on the door." The latch laid hold of his hands, and out of that he could
not come the length of the night, and out of that he did not come till the
morrow's day was bright. He went, under shame and disgrace. No matter, he
did not tell the other chap how it had happened, and on the third night he
came. As it happened to the two others, so it happened to him. One foot
stuck to the floor; he could neither come nor go, but so he was the length
of the night. On the morrow, he took his soles out (of that), and he was
not seen looking behind him. "Now," said the girl to the shoemaker, "thine
is the sporran of gold; I have no need of it. It will better thee, and I
am no worse for thy kindness to me." The shoemaker had the shoes ready,
and on that very day the king was to be married. The shoemaker was going
to the castle with the shoes of the young people, and the girl said to the
shoemaker, "I would like to get a sight of the king's son before he
marries." "Come with me," says the shoemaker, "I am well acquainted with
the servants at the castle, and thou shalt get a sight of the king's son
and all the company." And when the gentles saw the pretty woman that was
here they took her to the wedding-room, and they filled for her a glass of
wine. When she was going to drink what is in it, a flame went up out of
the glass, and a golden pigeon and a silver pigeon sprung out of it, they
were flying about when three grains of barley fell on the floor. The
silver pigeon sprang, and he eats that. Said the golden pigeon to him, "If
thou hadst mind when I cleared the byre, thou wouldst not eat that without
giving me a share." Again fell three other grains of barley, and the
silver pigeon sprang, and he eats that, as before. "If thou hadst mind
when I thatched the byre, thou wouldst not eat that without giving me my
share," says the golden pigeon. Three other grains fall, and the silver
pigeon sprang, and he eats that. "If thou hadst mind when I harried the
magpie's nest, thou wouldst not eat that without giving me my share," says
the golden pigeon; "I lost my little finger bringing it down, and I want
it still." The king's son minded, and he knew who it was he had got. He
sprang where she was, and kissed her from hand to mouth. And when the
priest came they married a second time. And there I left them.
This version of the Battle of the Birds
was recited by John Mackenzie, April 1859, and written in Gaelic by Hector
Urquhart. The reciter is a fisherman, and has resided for the last thirty
four years at Ceanmore, near Inverary, on the estate of the Duke of
Argyll. He is a native of Lorn. He says he has known it from his youth,
and he has been in the habit of repeating it to his friends on winter
nights, as a pastime, "He can read English and play the bagpipes, and
has a memory like Oliver and Boyd's Almanac." He got this and his
other stories from his father and other old people in Lorn and elsewhere.
He is about sixty years of age, and was employed, April 1859, in building
dykes on the estate of Ardkinglas, where Hector Urquhart is gamekeeper. In
reciting his stories he has all the manner of a practised narrator; people
still frequent his house to hear his tales. I know the man, and I have
heard him recite many. The Gaelic has some few north country words.
[The next part of this will give you the Gaelic translation
of the story and other variations and comments]