“‘Some of the best stories were never written,’ ses he. ‘And some of the wisest sayings are forgotten and the foolish ones remembered. But once the story of the White Horse of Banba is told, ‘twill keep ringing in your ears till the dawn of your doom.’
“‘Really?’ ses I.
“‘Yes,’ ses he. ‘’Tis the White Horse of Banba who comes in the dark of the night to carry us all from the Prison of Life to the Land of the Mighty Dead. And ’twas he stole the woman of my heart from me.’
“‘Well,’ ses I, ‘maybe ’tis better that he should have stolen her than some worthless bla’guard who couldn’t appreciate and treat her decently. There are more married than keep good house,’ ses I.
“‘That’s true, but ’tis no comfort for a man to see the woman he loves the wife of another, unless she might have the devil of a temper, and no taste for anything but gallivanting through the streets,’ ses he. ‘And only for the White Horse of Banba, I might be the father of a fine large family, who would be able to earn enough to keep me idle in my old age. Then I wouldn’t have to be worrying and fretting, when I am walking behind a plough or a harrow, on a warm day, or searching the boreens, the long winding lanes, or the dusty roads, looking for a lost sheep or a wandering cow, and watering the green grass that grows under my feet with the sweat that does be falling from my brow. Not, indeed, that I couldn’t have more wives than I’d want. But ’tis too respectable a man I am to ever fall in love with more than one woman. And that’s something that very few can boast of, whether they be single or married, inself.’
“‘And who told you about the White Horse of Banba?’ ses I.
“‘I have seen him with my own two eyes,’ ses he.
“‘Where?’ ses I.
“‘In this very spot. And I have seen him in every nook and corner of the land from the Giants’ Causeway to the Old Head of Kinsale, and as many times as you forgot to keep your promises too, and he with the golden shoes and hoofs of ivory, and a long mane that reaches down to the ground and a neck more beautiful than a swan, and eyes that sparkle like glow-worms when night is as dark as pitch.’
“‘And he will carry us all to the Land of the Mighty Dead?’