The Good Riddance
written by: Maggie O’Brien
One Samhain, an entire village set out to see
If they might harness the power of All Hallows’ Eve.
Ballinacrow townland had grown up around
A dolmen, a stone circle and an old fairy mound.
And ‘twas said in their lore, if to a man they were vexed
The Fae would assist them by removing the hex.
If they gathered together, hands linked in a ring
Up on the hill by their fresh-water spring.
And that if their cause was judged to be just
The Fairies would do whatever needs must.
Of the wee folk’s assistance, they could not be sure.
Because they had never once tried this before.
In the long peaceful years of Ballinacrow’s past
They had never even been tempted to ask.
But for many years now they had all been tormented
By a girl in their midst who was, quite frankly, demented.
Like many, the girl went by the name Mary
Like the one in the rhyme, she was born quite contrary.
At first they believed that with age she would soften
Not so, her tantrums and rages just happened more often.
She bullied and yelled. She stole (with no proof)
Was devious, cruel and a stranger to truth.
She rode rough-shod over established old ways,
Disrespected their customs day after day
From cradle to teens she proved a right pest
But sank to new depths they could never have guessed.
She brought friends in from the town, to drink and to sing,
To cavort and canoodle inside the stone ring.
They boozed and they partied well into the night
Ending up with rough brawls and shocking loud fights.
With her reign of terror now growing stronger,
The good people could stomach her shenanigans no longer.
It had to stop. This could not be.
To that end they formed a small co-mmittee.
While most were discussing an outright ban
Old Tom, tapping his shillelagh, cried “I have a plan”
It involved an Old Wives’ Tale of a dizzy, stray sod,
A cunning trap set by fairies and sanctioned by God.
It was a piece of magical earth; a small patch of grass
Beyond which no dark heart could ever trespass.
Old Tom was trusted with the location of the spot.
He was bequeathed it as a lad, and never forgot.
Although some doubted that Mary would be lured
Old Tom had wise words that soon reassured.
“Sure! Command the spalpeen to cease and desist,
She’ll do the reverse. She cannot resist.
Besides, the thought of a big audience will surely delight her
So all we’ve to remember is not to invite her.”
The next day, thereabouts, whispers fair flew
Telling them what they should (and should not) do.
The first Mary knew was when she was stirred
From her dreaming and scheming by a ruckus to be heard
From the cats, the dogs, the cattle and sheep
Who hullaballoo ’d, disrupting her sleep.
Through her bedroom curtains she peered ‘til she spied
A silhouetted procession along the hillside.
With midnight approaching, their circle intact
Mary chose that very moment to act.
She broke through their chain, and screamed “Eejits! Fools!
To hell with your superstitions and rules!”
She was about to horse into more of her speech
When the heavens were rent by a spine-chilling screech.
A huge crow came from nowhere to land right beside her,
The pitch of his cawing foreboding and dire.
Hopping, flapping and raucously squawking
The bird took control and directed her walking.
It made her step backward as it awkwardly steered
Her under a slither of a moonbeam that appeared
Bathing the spring’s stream in a dazzling light.
Revealing a Mary ashen with fright.
Of a sudden, the night-air grew noticeably chiller
A blue flash brightly burned
As Mary was turned
Into just one more, perfect stone pillar
If it’s a trip to Ballinacrow ye have planned,
Why not visit the spot where Mary still stands?
Outside the old circle there’s an outlying stone
Known by the locals as ‘Old Mary The Crone”
But be certain your heart and intentions are pure
The stray sod has moved. No-one knows where for sure!
- The Good Riddance - October 29, 2024
- In Carnations - October 6, 2024
- Ebb and Flow - August 19, 2023
