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impossible to describe the jealousy with
which he regarded the presence of writing
materials of any kind； and his ever wakeful
fears lest some literary pirate should
transfer his oral poetry to paperfears
which were not altogether without warrant；
inasmuch as the recitation and singing of
these original pieces were to him a source
of wealth and importance。 I recollect
upon one occasion his detecting me in the
very act of following his recitation with
my pencil and I shall not soon forget his
indignant scowl； as stopping abruptly in
the midst of a line； he sharply exclaimed：
'Is my pome a pigsty； or what； that you
want a surveyor's ground…plan of it？'
Owing to this absurd scruple； I have been
obliged； with one exception； that of the ballad
of 'Phaudhrig Crohoore；' to rest satisfied
with such snatches and fragments of his
poetry as my memory could bear awaya
fact which must account for the mutilated
state in which I have been obliged to
present the foregoing specimen of his
composition。
It was in vain for me to reason with
this man of metres upon the unreasonableness
of this despotic and exclusive assertion
of copyright。 I well remember his
answer to me when； among other arguments；
I urged the advisability of some
care for the permanence of his reputation；
as a motive to induce him to consent to
have his poems written down； and thus
reduced to a palpable and enduring
form。
'I often noticed；' said he； 'when a mist
id be spreadin'； a little brier to look as big；
you'd think； as an oak tree； an'
same way； in the dimmness iv the nightfall；
I often seen a man tremblin' and crassin'
himself as if a sperit was before him； at
the sight iv a small thorn bush； that he'd
leap over with ase if the daylight and
sunshine was in it。 An' that's the rason why
I think it id be better for the likes iv me
to be remimbered in tradition than to be
written in history。'
Finley has now been dead nearly eleven
years； and his fame has not prospered by
the tactics which he pursued； for his
reputation； so far from being magnified； has
been wholly obliterated by the mists of
obscurity。
With no small difficulty； and no inconsiderable
manoeuvring； I succeeded in procuring；
at an expense of trouble and
conscience which you will no doubt
think but poorly rewarded； an accurate
'report' of one of his most popular
recitations。 It celebrates one of the many
daring exploits of the once famous
Phaudhrig Crohoore （in prosaic English；
Patrick Connor）。 I have witnessed
powerful effects produced upon large
assemblies by Finley's recitation of this
poem which he was wont； upon pressing
invitation； to deliver at weddings； wakes；
and the like； of course the power of
the narrative was greatly enhanced by
the fact that many of his auditors
had seen and well knew the chief actors in
the drama。
'PHAUDHRIG CROHOORE。
Oh； Phaudhrig Crohoore was the broth of a boy；
And he stood six foot eight；
And his arm was as round as another man's thigh；
'Tis Phaudhrig was great；
And his hair was as black as the shadows of night；
And hung over the scars left by many a fight；
And his voice； like the thunder； was deep； strong； and loud；
And his eye like the lightnin' from under the cloud。
And all the girls liked him； for he could spake civil；
And sweet when he chose it； for he was the divil。
An' there wasn't a girl from thirty…five undher；
Divil a matter how crass； but he could come round her。
But of all the sweet girls that smiled on him； but one
Was the girl of his heart； an' he loved her alone。
An' warm as the sun； as the rock firm an' sure；
Was the love of the heart of Phaudhrig Crohoore；
An' he'd die for one smile from his Kathleen O'Brien；
For his love； like his hatred； was sthrong as the lion。
'But Michael O'Hanlon loved Kathleen as well
As he hated Crohoorean' that same was like hell。
But O'Brien liked HIM； for they were the same parties；
The O'Briens； O'Hanlons； an' Murphys； and Cartys
An' they all went together an' hated Crohoore；
For it's many the batin' he gave them before；
An' O'Hanlon made up to O'Brien； an' says he：
〃I'll marry your daughter； if you'll give her to me。〃
And the match was made up； an' when Shrovetide came on；
The company assimbled three hundred if one：
There was all the O'Hanlons； an' Murphys； an' Cartys；
An' the young boys an' girls av all o' them parties；
An' the O'Briens； av coorse； gathered strong on day；
An' the pipers an' fiddlers were tearin' away；
There was roarin'； an' jumpin'； an' jiggin'； an' flingin'；
An' jokin'； an' blessin'； an' kissin'； an' singin'；
An' they wor all laughin'why not； to be sure？
How O'Hanlon came inside of Phaudhrig Crohoore。
An' they all talked an' laughed the length of the table；
Atin' an' dhrinkin' all while they wor able；
And with pipin' an' fiddlin' an' roarin' like tundher；
Your head you'd think fairly was splittin' asundher；
And the priest called out； 〃Silence； ye blackguards； agin！〃
An' he took up his prayer…book； just goin' to begin；
An' they all held their tongues from their funnin' and bawlin'；
So silent you'd notice the smallest pin fallin'；
An' the priest was just beg'nin' to read； whin the door
Sprung back to the wall； and in walked Crohoore
Oh！ Phaudhrig Crohoore was the broth of a boy；
Ant he stood six foot eight；
An' his arm was as round as another man's thigh；
'Tis Phaudhrig was great
An' he walked slowly up； watched by many a bright eye；
As a black cloud moves on through the stars of the sky；
An' none sthrove to stop him； for Phaudhrig was great；
Till he stood all alone； just apposit the sate
Where O'Hanlon and Kathleen； his beautiful bride；
Were sitting so illigant out side by side；
An' he gave her one look that her heart almost broke；
An' he turned to O'Brien； her father； and spoke；
An' his voice； like the thunder； was deep； sthrong； and loud；
An' his eye shone like lightnin' from under the cloud：
〃I didn't come here like a tame； crawlin' mouse；
But I stand like a man in my inimy's house；
In the field； on the road； Phaudhrig never knew fear；
Of his foemen； an' God knows he scorns it here；
So lave me at aise； for three minutes or four；
To spake to the girl I'll never see more。〃
An' to Kathleen he turned； and his voice changed its tone；
For he thought of the days when he called her his own；
An' his eye blazed like lightnin' from under the cloud
On his false…hearted girl； reproachful and proud；
An' says he： 〃Kathleen bawn； is it thrue what I hear；
That you marry of your free choice； without threat or fear？
If so； spake the word； an' I'll turn and depart；
Chated once； and once only by woman's false heart。〃
Oh！ sorrow and love made the poor girl dumb；
An' she thried hard to spake； but the words wouldn't come；
For the sound of his voice； as he stood th