Cloinn ’ic Anfhaola agus na Róinte /
The Coneely Family and the Seals
Informant: Seán Mac Infhaola
Age: 76
Address: Leitir Mucú, Co. Galway
Collector: Brian Mac Lochlainn, National Folklore Collection, UCD
Date of Recording: 25/03/1939
Reference:

NFC 641: 65

Fishing at Conamara [Kathleen Price, National Folklore Collection, UCD]

Cloinn ’ic Anfhaola agus na Róinte

Bhí seanfhear de mhuintir Mhaoilchiaráin ar Leitir Calaidh ag dhul ag foghlaeireacht fadó, ach bhíodh siad ag tabhairt ainm eile air – dhá bhaiste ar a mháthair – Seán Bháibín. Ghabh sé lá ag foghlaeireacht agus chonaic sé rón óg agus seanrón ar charraig agus chaith sé leo. Théis an t-urchar a chatha’, ní raibh ’fhios aige cá raibh sé a dhul – cuireadh amú é. Bhí sé ag imeacht leis agus casadh ar oileán é, agus shiúil sé suas go dtí teach a chonaic sé thuas ann agus bheanna’ sé isteach ann. Agus dúirt bean a tí:

“Céad fáilte romhat, a Sheáin Bháibín,” – in ainm a mháthar, mar sé’n t-ainm is mó a bhí ag imeacht air é, in áit ‘Seán Ó Maoilchiaráin’.

         “Tá aithne agat orm, a bhean an tí, ach níl aon aithne agam ort,” a deir sé.

         “Ní íontas ar bith aithne a bheith a’m-sa ort, a Sheáin,” a deir sise.

         “Well níl ’fhios a’m cá’il mé,” a deir sé.

         “Well cén sort oibre a bhí go deireanach ort?” a deir bean an tí leis.

         “Bhí mé ag foghlaeireacht,” a deir sé.

         “Cé leis ar chaith tú go deireanach?” a deir sí.

         “Le rón óg agus seanrón.”

         “Meas tú ar ghorta’ tú iad?”

“Thóig mé an fheamainn don leic san áit a rabhadar ’na luí. Níl ’fhios a’m céard a rinne mé mar níor mhill mé tada.” Tóigeann sí an páiste as an gcliabhán, agus bhí an sruth fola anuas cois an pháiste agus a cheathrú briste.

         “Tá ceathrú mo pháiste briste a’d, a Sheáin,” a deir sí.

         “Well ní maith liom sin,” a deir sé, “ní raibh ’fhios a’m a raibh mé ag déana’ mísc ar bith.”

         “Well tá súil a’m,” a deir sí, “nach ndéanfaidh tú aon mhísc níos mó.”

         “Ní dhéanfaidh le cúna’ Dé,” a deir sé, “aon bhlas mhísc níos mó.”

“Fan anois go n-íosfaidh tú do dhinnéar.” Thug sí leamhnacht [agus] arán mine coirce dó le n-ithe, agus dúirt sí leis a dhul abhaile go bhfaigheadh sé an t-eolas abhaile ansin. Chuaigh sé amach. Ní raibh sé i bhfad ar chor ar bith uaidh na teach fhéin, ní dheachaidh sé i bhfad ar chor a bith nó go bhfuair sé an t-eolas abhaile.

Nuair a bhí sé ag imeacht;

         “Cé ghar díobh thú, a bhean a tí,” a deir sé, “le do thoil?”

“Do Chloinn ’ic Anfhaola mé,” a deir sí. “Mar tá muide faoi dhraíocht. Tá Cloinn ’ic Anfhaola,” a deir sí, “faoi dhraíocht.” Bean do Chloinn ’ic Anfhaola agus a páiste a bhí ar a gcarraig nuair a chaith sé leo.

‘Cineál Chloigeann aníos’ – leasainm ar dhuine do Chloinn ’ic Anfhaola. Mar bhíonn an rón ag cur a chloigeann aníos thar an uisce, agus ó deirtear gur uaidh na rónta a shíolraigh Cloinn ’ic Anfhaola.

The Coneely Family and the Seals

There was an old man from the Maoilchiaráin family on Leitir Calaidh going shooting long ago, but they used to call him by another name, Seán Bháibín – a name given to him by his mother. He went hunting one day and he saw a young seal and an old seal on a rock and he shot at them. After he’d fired the shot, he didn’t know where he was going – he’d been put off course. As he went on, he came to an island, and he walked up to a house he had seen and he called in there. And the woman of the house said:        

“Welcome, Seán Bháibín”, using the name his mother used as that was the name he went by, rather than Seán Ó Maoilchiaráin. 

“You know me, woman of the house, but I don’t know you at all,” he said.     

“It’s no surprise that I know you Seán,” she said.     

“Well I don’t know where I am,” he said.

“Well what kind of work were you last doing?” said the woman of the house to him.       

“I was shooting,” he said.       

“And who did you last shoot at?” she said.      

“A young seal and an old seal.”       

“Do you think you hurt them?”

“I took the seaweed from the rock where they were lying. I don’t know what I did, because I didn’t kill anything.” She took the child from the cradle and blood flowed down the child’s leg and his thigh was broken.       

“You’ve broken my child’s leg, Seán,” she said.      

“Well I don’t like that,” he said, “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”      

“Well I hope,” she said, “that you won’t do any sort of mischief again.”      

“I won’t, with the help of God,” he said, “do any kind of mischief again.”       

“Stay until you eat your dinner.” She gave him new milk and oatmeal bread to eat, and she told him to go home, that he would find the way home there. He went out. He wasn’t all that far from his own house and he didn’t go far at all before he found the way home.

When he was leaving, he asked;       

“If you don’t mind, woman of the house,” he said, “to what family do you belong?”       

“I’m from the Coneely family,” she said. “Because we are enchanted, the Coneely family are enchanted.” It was a woman from the Coneely family and her child that had been on the rock when he shot at them.

‘Keep head up’ – the nickname given to people from the Coneely family, because the seal pops his head up from under the water, and it is said that the Coneely family are descended from seals.