colleen

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So it was with a wee sense 'o fear, I put a hurry in me steps to visit me faier Colleen. As me feet traveled ever faster, the rustling behind me grew ever louder, till I knew it was more than just one lonesome, loathsome Spriggan be a following me. I was a feared for her now, truth be told, for something in me heart warned of an earlier trouble for me faier lass. And so it was I came upon her cottage, sweat a pouring down me work worn brow, me hands a trembling, and a hoard of hungry Spriggans on me heels.

On a seeing her cottage standing in the faier shine 'o morning, flowers nodding their heads in the shimmer 'o the sun, I began to believe me heart had seized a fear for naught, for all seemed as it should be. Till I heard a soft and mournful cry upon the wind, as of a woman gently weeping. Me heart jumped up to me throat like as a great fist, and me legs carried me forward all on their own, for 'twas the voice of me own Colleen I be a hearing.

O such a mournful cry it be, put me of a mind a beast trapped in t' bogs. Lost, alone, no way to win free. Such a sad sound, pulled me feet faster till it was her door I'm a standing in. 'O me poor Colleen, I thinks, as me eyes grow a customed to the light, for them wee little Spriggans had a got her sometime in the night. Her fine red tresses they'd bound about her bonny wrists, and tied them to her bedposts, but that wasn't the worst of it, nooo me lassie 'twas not. For they'd a taken the rest of her shinny red locks, and a twisted them in the most fearsome tangles, with feathers and brambles full 'o thorns. Till the only way there was to free me dear Colleen was to sheer her long red curls like an to a sheep.

� Linda H. Lawrence

'Twas a day bright born, in the faier hills of Noch Lon Agee, the sun warm on me shoulders made promises I begged it to keep. Wee birds sang from their high lofty perches, such a clear and pure melody as to make a man weep. When me ears did spy a rustle amongst the bushes, the like as such to faier make ye skin crawl. For 'twas no earthly sound I be hearing, but the soft quiet hush of a wee little Spriggan creeping along behind me.

Now what, I asks me self, is a Spriggan doing in me pasture, no good I'll tell ye that, for there is no good in the little beings a 'tal. Not so fearsome are they when tiny, but when they want they can puff themselves up to twice the size of a man, then right fearsome they be. All over a covered with warts and coarse mats 'o hair, their stench enough to faier knock down a house. They can crush you with one swipe 'o their large meaty hand, popping you into the great smelly maw that passes for a mouth, to crunch yer bones like as a bedtime snack.

THE WEE ADVENTURE OF ME LASSIE FAIER COLLEEN

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