Welcome to all my sleepy little listeners on this beautiful starry night.
I'm going to tell you a story that you might not have heard before.
It's a story from long,
Long ago.
And in a land far,
Far away.
Where there lived a little girl whose name was Moira.
She lived with her mother and father and her seven younger brothers in a small little cottage on the edge of the woods.
Moira's mother and father loved their daughter so dearly.
But as their children grew,
They struggled to find enough to feed them all.
And their little cottage did not have enough space to hold them all.
One evening,
After a long day's work in the fields,
Moira's mother called them in for their supper.
Come along for your supper is on the table and tell your sister too.
The seven brothers were famished after their day in the fields toiling and tilling.
And when they came to sit at the table,
There was a great kerfuffle.
For there was hardly enough space for them all to fish.
Move over Cormac said Cahill.
Push along Cuibhín said Curraghúir.
Shove up there Ciarán said Cian.
The brothers were pushing and shoving so much.
That poor little Killian slipped right off the bench.
Ah,
Stop the fussing,
Will ye,
" said their mother.
And make space for our dear Moira.
Moira was standing in the doorway of the cottage,
Shaking her head fondly at her brothers.
"'Tis a far cry from chivalrous knights ye are,
" she teased.
And the brothers began to sing a song to playfully taunt their sister.
Moira,
Moira,
Unwell to a goira nor a quina,
Nor a quina.
Moira,
Moira,
Are you laughing or crying,
Or crying?
Who is your favourite brother now?
Tell us,
Who is your favourite lad?
Come and sit beside us,
Moira,
For you know we're not all that bad.
When their mother served their supper.
The laughing and joking stopped.
And a solemn silence fell upon the table.
For on their plates was a tiny piece of bread and nothing more.
The brothers all looked at their mother with questioning eyes,
But she could not say anything that would quench their hunger.
Enjoy the little that you've got my children,
She said.
For tomorrow there will be even less.
That night when the children were sleeping,
Cormac head-to-tailed with Cachal.
Cuivín head-to-tail with Gluhúr.
Ciarán,
Cian and Cillian all in bed together.
And nor allayed by the hearth.
Their mother and father made a decision.
One that was not easy for them to make.
It's the only answer.
Subbed their mother.
Now that Moira is of age,
She will have to go and work for the old maid on the mountain.
As much as it will break my heart to see her go.
There,
There,
My dear wife,
Said their father.
Moira is a smart and hard-working girl and she will be just fine.
But when he turned away from the glowing embers of the fire,
A single tear rolled down his cheek.
Early the next morning,
As the sun began to rise,
Moira's mother packed her few belongings and the last piece of bread,
Along with a sprig of rosemary to put under her pillow,
To ensure her dreams would be memorable.
Cormac Cahill,
Cuivín Crúthúr,
Ciarán Cíon and Cillian,
Hugged their sister and wished her well.
Work hard and never forget how much we love you.
Said her father.
As he and her mother waved her off.
Moira would miss her family,
But she knew,
She being the eldest girl,
That this was her destiny.
All that day she walked and walked,
Through fields and forests,
Hopping across streams and wading through rivers,
Up hills and down valleys,
Until she came to the foot of the mountain where the old maid lived.
Here she sat and had a little bite of the bread her mother had packed.
And a sip of some spring water.
While she sat in the soft,
Sweet grass,
She thought of her dear brothers and of how much she missed them already.
Their lively and playful ways.
She thought of the kindness of her mother and the patience of her father.
And her heart began to long for home.
But just in that moment,
Something flew out from behind the hawthorn bush.
And Moira's melancholy lifted.
For fluttering around her and singing a sweet little tune was none other than a friendly robin.
Now the stories had been told many years as to how the little robin had gained his feathers of red.
For once upon a time.
The robin had helped a fairy who was in grave difficulty.
And as a reward,
The fairy changed the tiny robin's chest feathers from a dull brown to a flaming red.
For red was sacred and a powerful colour for the fairy folk.
And ever since that day,
To see a robin was considered to be an omen of good luck.
For robins were often the secret messengers for the fairy folk.
The little robin flew with such joy that Moira forgot of her longings,
And instead she could not help but smile as she watched the little bird flitter and flutter,
And allowed herself to soak up the sweet and flowing melody that the little bird was singing.
The deer Robin landed on the grass not far from where Moira was sitting.
And he began to hop,
Hop,
Hop towards her.
Moira felt a great surprise at how brave this little tiny bird was.
And she stayed as still as she possibly could so as not to startle him.
The little bird hopped so close that Moira could see each of its tiny little feathers folded tightly over one another.
And with one more hop.
.
.
The rabbit landed on her foot.
And began to sing a melody so sweet.
That a tear of joy trickled down Moira's cheek and she smiled as her heart filled.
Án mhaileachras artais beadóg álid.
Are you hungry,
Beautiful Robin?
She whispered.
As she slowly reached for her bundle and unwrapped the small piece of bread that was left.
She pinched off a few little bits and scattered them on the grass beside her.
With that,
The robin happily hopped off her foot and ate the crumbs before flitting off along the path that headed towards the old maid's lodge.
Dear Little Robin Can you show me the way?
For I am so far from home Your song is so sweet,
Your flight is free,
That I know I'm not alone.
You're a friend to the fairies and a friend to the trees.
A friend to the farmer and a friend to the bees.
And now,
Little Robin,
I can see that you are a friend to me.
Oh,
Sweet little Robin,
I can see that you are a friend to me.
Moira gathered her bundle,
And with lightness in her footsteps,
She followed the robin along the steep path that led higher and higher up the mountain.
Once she reached the gate to the old maid's lodge,
The little robin sat on the fence and sang one more song to Moira before flitting away so quickly that she did not see where he flew to.
She pushed open the gate,
Which creaked with stiffness,
As if it had not been opened in a very,
Very long time.
As Moira walked along the uneven path towards the lodge.
She noticed how quiet it was.
For there was not the sound of any other voices.
No one calling out or whistling a tune.
No one playfully teasing her or chattering.
So very different from home,
She thought to herself as she tentatively knocked on the door.
Inside the lodge,
There was a mumbling and a grumbling.
And after a few moments,
The heavy door opened just a crack.
Just enough for Moira to see the eyes of the old maid peering out.
What took you so long?
I have been waiting since early morning for you to come and milk the cow,
Feed the chickens,
Gather the eggs,
Brush the pony,
Herd the sheep,
Stack the hay,
Churn the butter,
Mill the flour,
Gather the wood,
Set the fire,
Sweep the floors,
Dress the beds,
Fetch the water and bring me my supper.
With all the work that had to be done.
It was well after sundown that Moira finally laid her head to rest.
Her bed was a blanket that she laid by the hearth of the fire.
As close as she could to the glowing embers.
Although her eyes were heavy with tiredness and her limbs so weary.
She still took the time to put out a little dish of milk and a few crumbs of bread for the fairy folk.
Remembering her mother's words.
If we look out for the fairies,
My love.
That they will look out for us.
And the minute her head touched the pillow,
Moira fell into a deep,
Deep slumber.
Fairies watch by night have care.
Closely by me while I sleep Dreams they bring to me and you.
Warm our hearts so we stay true.
While the stars shine in the sky.
Fairies flutter,
Fairies fly.
Bringing magic to our sleep.
Sweetest dreams for us to keep Now as the seasons passed,
The old maid could not have been more pleased,
For Moira was one of the hardest working young girls she had ever known.
From before sunrise until after sunset,
Moira would be tending to all her chores.
And never once did she grumble or complain.
For all the while that Moira was scrubbing or chopping or gathering or churning or stacking or cleaning.
The dear little Robin was never too far from her.
And she felt great comfort in knowing her little feathered friend was close by.
Although the old maid rarely left her farm on the mountain,
She was known far and wide as being the owner of a fine herd of sheep.
Sheep with the softest,
Warmest fleece than any other flock across the land.
These sheep were called valet blacknose and were famous for their fluffy soft white fleece but had black patches on their nose.
The old maid took great pride in her sheep.
And every day Moira tended to them and cared for them as if they were her own.
Along my little fluffy clouds,
" she would say,
For you bring me happiness every day.
One afternoon.
The old maid received a visitor.
It was Timmy the tailor from down the village.
Timmy had come all this way to strike a deal with the old maid.
Might I be able to use the wool from your sheep to make the suits and the coats for the people this winter?
Your sheep have the thickest coats of all the sheep across the mountain,
" said Timmy.
And I could do with some of your wool if I may.
The old maid and Timmy the tailor came to an agreement.
But just before they shook hands,
Timmy stopped and turned to the old maid with a stern expression and said,
But on one condition.
I need every thread of that wool.
Bye tomorrow.
The old maid could not turn away such a fine deal.
So she shook the nimble hand of the tailor,
Knowing full well that it was an almost impossible task to weave all the wool into yarn by tomorrow.
Timmy the tailor almost skipped down the mountain with glee as he now had made a deal that meant he would have the finest wool in all the land to weave into winter coats and suits and he was sure to make a pretty penny from them.
And he couldn't help but sing a tune with a twinkle in his eye.
Well I'll sew and I'll stitch and I'll weave Be it pants or a coat or a sleeve For I have the finest wool in all the land Soft and warm as can be For I have the finest wool in all the land I'm the tailor by the name of Timmy Moira was taking the linen off the washing line when she heard the old maid calling loudly.
Moira,
Moira,
Hurry along dear girl for there's lots of work to be done.
What can she mean?
Thought Moira.
For I have not rested all this day long.
She took the basket of freshly washed and dried linen and walked towards the house.
Before she made her way into the kitchen.
The old maid was shouting again.
Moira,
Moira,
Hurry along dear girl for there's lots of work to be done.
Sat in the alcove next to the hearth,
Was the old maid,
Surrounded by a mountain of wool.
The most wolf that Moira had ever seen in her sweet young life.
Without delay,
Go and get the spinning wheel,
Dear girl,
For every thread of this wool must be woven into yarn by tomorrow morning.
Moira stood frozen on the spot,
For she could quite not believe her eyes,
And she could quite not believe her ears.
B-b-bye tomorrow morning?
She said with a tremble in her voice.
Pull the fluff out from your ears Moira,
That's what I said,
By tomorrow morning or I will send you back down the mountain when the first cockerel calls.
With that,
The old maid slammed the kitchen door and left Moira there by herself with the spinning wheel and the enormous mountain of wool.
She pulled a little stool out from under the table.
Sat by the fire and began to softly sob.
Her tears splattered on the hard slate floor and she felt utterly helpless and alone.
What can I do?
For it is not possible to weave all this wool into yarn by tomorrow morning.
And I cannot go home,
For mother and father cannot keep me.
Oh,
What am I to do?
And as her tears stained the slate floor.
She heard the softest little.
.
.
Tap tapping on the kitchen window.
She wiped her eyes and lifted her weary head.
Only to see her dear little Robin perched on the ledge.
Tap,
Tap,
Tapping on the windowpane.
Be away with you,
Little one,
For I have too much to do.
The old maid has left all this wool for me to weave into yarn before morning comes,
And I cannot spare a moment.
So be away with you now.
Said morris sadly But the little rabbit would not fly away.
Instead,
He began to scratch at the small latch on the window with his little beak.
This way and dash,
This way and dash.
Until the window popped open In he flew!
The little robin perched on top of the spinning wheel.
And opened its little beak.
Not to sing.
But to speak.
We have watched you work and toil from early morn to late at night,
Dear gentle girl.
You work with your hands,
But it comes from your heart,
And we can see who you truly are,
For I am a messenger for the fairy folk.
And I am here to help you in your time of need.
So do not cry,
Do not shed another tear.
For the fairies are here to help you,
My dear.
With that,
A warm breeze blew through the kitchen.
And with it came a bright yellow light which grew and grew and grew until the kitchen was full of tiny little fairies of all shapes and sizes,
Each with their own little tiny spinning wheel.
Moira could not believe her eyes.
She had always believed in the fairies but to now be surrounded by them was more than she could have ever imagined.
The fairies wore strange little outfits,
Jackets and vests,
And pants tucked into boots that were made of leaves,
Skirts of flower petals,
Hats of downy feathers and fern,
And each fairy had wings that shimmered in cerulean blue and forest green,
Sunset orange and golden yellow,
Crimson and bold magenta,
The fairy's got to work.
And the little robin made sure that all was in order.
As the hours passed,
Moira's eyes grew heavy and she curled up on the hearth in front of the fire and drifted to sleep.
To the sound of the spinning wheels hum and whirr as the fairies worked through the night.
Well,
We spin,
Spin,
Spin And we sing,
Sing,
Sing working together with care and when the sun does rise we will take to the skies for our work will be done when the new day comes tra-la-la fal-da-do-de-re-o tra-la-la fal-da-do-de Tra-la-la,
Fa-la-do-de-re-o.
The life of a fairy for me.
When the cockerel called to mark the new day,
Moira stirred from her slumber.
Was I dreaming all this time?
She thought to herself as she rubbed her sleepy eyes.
When she looked around the kitchen.
What did she see?
But hundreds of balls of wool woven to perfection.
And all neatly piled on top of each other.
Moira rose to her feet in astonishment.
The fairies must have worked so hard,
She thought.
How can I ever repay them?
With that,
The kitchen door flung open and in stepped the old maid.
I suppose you've only half the job done,
" she grumbled.
What am I going to say to Timmy the tailor when he arrives looking for his wo.
.
.
Wo.
.
.
Woo.
The old maid's eyes were as wide as saucers as she glanced at the perfect pile of wool stacked neatly in the corner of the kitchen.
How is this so?
She exclaimed,
Turning to Moira,
Who stood there silent as a stone.
Speak up,
Child,
And tell me now,
How did you manage to weave all that yarn into such perfect balls of wool in only one night?
Moira gulped.
For she did not quite know what to say.
Just then she heard a little tap,
Tap,
Tapping at the kitchen window.
And there on the windowsill was the little robin.
Flittering and flushering as if wanting to come in.
Oh,
You foolish girl being distracted by a silly bird when I'm speaking to you.
Grumbled the old maid.
Just at that moment the window flew open and the little robin began to fly in circles around the old maid as she flapped and waved her arms all about the place in a spin.
The little robin landed on top of the stacked wool.
And right before their very eyes.
Changed into the most beautiful fairy imaginable.
The fairy robin wore a golden crown that shimmered like the sun.
A cape of woven butterfly wings.
And they held a staff in one hand and a golden needle in the other hand.
On top of the bejeweled staff was a shimmering crystal orb.
That radiated a light like the brightest star in the sky.
The little fairy spoke in song.
My name is Fairy Robert and I am here to say that those who work so long and hard will be blessed upon this day.
Get out of my way,
You foolish child,
Said the old maid,
For she believed the fairy was there to visit her.
But instead.
Fairy Robin flew above Moira's head.
And as they did,
A sprinkling of rainbow dust so fine fell all around her.
Moira had been given the gift of becoming a fine and gifted seamstress.
And from that day on,
She spent her hours weaving silks and linen,
Wool and cotton.
And she became known far and wide across many lands for her fine stitching and beautiful fabrics.
And Moira never had to work for the old maid again.
She made enough money to look after her mother and father and her seven brothers.
And on every full moon,
Moira was paid a special visit.
By Fairy Robin and all the Little Fairy Helpers.
Who would weave and spin all through the night until the first light of dawn broke.
So if you ever see a little robin flitting and fluttering by your window,
Know that magic and wonder are never far behind.
Fairies watch by night of care.
Closely by me while I slept.
Dreams they bring to you and me.
Warm our hearts so we are free.
While the stars shine in the sky.
Fairies flutter,
Fairies fly.
Bringing magic to our sleep sweetest dreams for us to keep.
Good night and sweet dreams to all my sleepy little listeners.
Until the next time.
