There was once a boy in the County Mayo; Guleesh was his name. There
was the finest rath a little way off from the gable of the house,
and he was often in the habit of seating himself on the fine grass
bank that was running round it. One night he stood, half leaning
against the gable of the house, and looking up into the sky, and
watching the beautiful white moon over his head. After he had been
standing that way for a couple of hours, he said to himself: "My
bitter grief that I am not gone away out of this place altogether.
I'd sooner be any place in the world than here. Och, it's well for
you, white moon," says he, "that's turning round, turning round, as
you please yourself, and no man can put you back. I wish I was the
same as you."

Hardly was the word out of his mouth when he heard a great noise
coming like the sound of many people running together, and talking,
and laughing, and making sport, and the sound went by him like a
whirl of wind, and he was listening to it going into the rath.
"Musha, by my soul," says he, "but ye're merry enough, and I'll
follow ye."

What was in it but the fairy host, though he did not know at first
that it was they who were in it, but he followed them into the rath.
It's there he heard the _fulparnee_, and the _folpornee_, the
_rap-lay-hoota_, and the _roolya-boolya_, that they had there,
and every man of them crying out as loud as he could: "My horse,
and bridle, and saddle! My horse, and bridle, and saddle!"

"By my hand," said Guleesh, "my boy, that's not bad. I'll imitate
ye," and he cried out as well as they: "My horse, and bridle, and