An old Gaelic MS.--"The Bewitched Bachelor Unbewitched"--Fairy Lore--Lacteal Libations on Fairy Knowes.
In looking over some old papers the other day [October 1868] we stumbled on some sheets of Gaelic MS. that had lain neglected for years, and every existence of which, indeed, we had well-nigh forgotten. One of these sheets contained the original of the following lines. It is in many respects a curious composition, written in a sort of rhythmical alliterative prose rather than in verse, somewhat in the manner of the conversational parts of the Gaelic Sgeulachdan or fireside tales of the olden time. Its tone throughout is gay and lively, with an occasional admixture of humour and double entendre that is very amusing, while its allusions to the manners and customs and superstitious observances of a past age render it, to our thinking, extremely interesting. The sheet in our possession is only a copy, the original, taken down from oral recitation, we believe, being in a MS. collection of Gaelic poems and tales by Rev. Mr. M'Donald, at one time minister of the parish of Fortingall, in Perthshire. Having only internal evidence to judge from, it is impossible with any confidence to assign even an approximate date to such a production as this, but we are probably not far wrong in placing it as early at least as the middle or close of the last century. It bears no title in the original; we may call it--
The gudeman mumbled and grumbled full sore Over the butter-kits, all through the dairy: Over cheese, over butter, and milk-pails, he swore "'Tis the work, I'll be bound, of some foul witch or fairy.
How can I ever be happy or rich, If robbed and tormented by fairy and witch," Quoth he; and lo, with a sudden turn He stumbled and spilt the cream-full churn!
He went to his mother (she dwelt in the cot Amid the hazels down by the linn: Full well the wild birds loved that spot, And taught its echoes their merry din)-- He went to his mother, that Bachelor gruff: He was mild with her, though with others rough.
"Mother," quoth he, "I have not now One-half the butter or cheese, I trow, That loaded my dairy shelves when you Had charge of my household and dairy too: Tell me mother, what shall I do? I vow and declare that some fairy or witch Is robbing me still and doing me ill--I shall never be rich."