'And what bridge may this be?' asked the Shifty Lad; and the
princess told him that this was the bridge of Dublin.

'Is it indeed?' cried he. 'Well, now, many is the time that my
mother has said, when I played her a trick, that my end would be
that I should hang on the bridge of Dublin.'

'Oh, if you want to fulfil her prophecies,' laughed the princess,
'you have only to let me tie my handkerchief round your ankle,
and I will hold you as you hang over the wall of the bridge.'

'That would be fine fun,' said he; 'but you are not strong enough
to hold me up.'

'Oh, yes, I am,' said the princess; 'just try.' So at last he let
her bind the handkerchief round his ankle and hang him over the
wall, and they both laughed and jested at the strength of the
princess.

'Now pull me up again,' called he; but as he spoke a great cry
arose that the palace was burning. The princess turned round with
a start, and let go her handkerchief, and the Shifty Lad fell,
and struck his head on a stone, and died in an instant.

So his mother's prophecy had come true, after all.

West Highland Tales.