NOTES AND QUERIES.
(38) In Cork Proverbs, September, under proverb No. 34, the contributor asks, “What is tarroc?” Ní ansa. Tarroc, or tarrac, is the Munster form of tarrang, Connaught tarraint, infinitive or verbal noun of tarraingim, or tairngim, I draw: uair a ṫarroc ċum cille=:the time of his drawing to the graveyard.
(39) In last number, the Editor, in his Gaelic Notes, referred to words in which a metathesis has changed the pronunciation. In Aran, Galway, buartlaċ is said instead of bualtraċ = cow-dung, especially when used as fuel; muileán for muineál, neck; pé briṫ, sometimes even fé briṫ, for pé ar biṫ, whatever, whoever: lar-saċaiḋe = lasraċaiḋe, lightning, plural of lasair, flame.—J. McN.
(40) Popular Proverbs, West Connacht, No. 3—Tabac i ndiaiḋ bíḋ is le bean-a’-tiġe atá sin. It was, I have heard, the celebrated Caṫal, or Caṫaoir (for the name seems to have two forms) Mac Cába who said this. He was once entertained at a house, and, after dinner was over, requiring a smoke, he made use of the words above, which have now become a proverb, to which the woman of the house indignantly replied:—
“Ní’l sgraiste siuḃalta na tíre nár ṁaiṫ an diól dó a ḃeiṫ leis.”
Whereon MacCabe, with less wit than might have been expected from him, retorted:—
“Ná raiḃ teaċ ná tiġ ag a leag an ciós sin air;” i.e., MacCabe: “Tobacco after food; that is for the woman of the house [to give].”
She: “There's no vagabone travelling the country [like yourself] but has a right to have it with him.” Literally, “that it was not a good sufficiency for him it to be with him.”
MacCabe:“That there may neither be house nor home over the person who left that impost on him.”
MacCabe was really witty in his own wav. My friend, Seáġan O Ruaiḋriġ, told me that he was one day taking a drink in Sligo, and the host asked his name. “Caṫaoir Cába,” said he. “Caṫaoir agus cába,” said the host, pretending to misunderstand him, “sin beirt.” “And what’s your own name, my man?” said MacCabe. “Searlus Beirt,” said the host. “Searlus agus beirt,” said MacCabe, “sin triúr.” This is one of the few instances of a genuine Irish pun which I have come across.—An Chraoiḃín Aoiḃinn.
The following version of the same dialogue is from Galway:—
“Tabac tar éis bíḋ, is ar ḃean an tiġe atá sin.”
“A’s gaċ stróinse ḋá dtéiḋeann an tsliġe, is suaraċ an cíos tiġe air é sin.”
From Aran:—
An Fear Siuḃail: “Tabac tar éis bíḋ, is ar ḟear a’ tiġe atá sin.”
Fear an Tiġe: “Gaċ stróinse ḋá ndeacaiḋ an tsliġe se, is suaraċ an cíos tiġe air sin.”
An Fear Siuḃail: “Teaċ ná tioġḃus ná raiḃ as cíonn an té d’orduiġ an cíos sin air.”
The stranger’s answer is commended, not so much for its wit as for its vindication of a hospitable custom.—J. MacN.
(41) Proverbs 7—I remember, many years ago, hearing the origin of this proverb also. It occurred in a most extraordinary story called Pull an yee a vric (perhaps Poll andiaiḋ bruic), all about a badger who was a man, and whose hole was in Loughlynn; and everything that went down into the hole, as an axe, couples for a house, etc, came out in Norway. I have often tried to [ 112 ]recover this story, but in vain; I am afraid it is hopelessly lost. If I remember rightly, it was the badger’s flesh, in the broth of which there lay miraculous power, which gave rise, I was told, to the proverb.
(42) August, p. 79, Note—Corraiġeaċt agus fiċe púnt. I have sometimes heard corr agus fiċe púnt. Compare the beautiful Scotch Gaelic song, which I quote from memory:—
“Ṫug mé corr agus naoi míosa
Ann sna h-ínnsean is faide ṫall
’S bean bóiḋead eudann cha raiḃ ri faotan
’S dá ḃfáġainn saor iad cha n-ḟanḟainn ann.”
“I spent over nine months in the islands furthest back, and a woman of beauty of face there was not to be got; and if I were to get them for nothing, I would not remain there.”
(43) The Scotch words bóiḋead, “beauty,” and bóiḋeaċ, “beautiful,” remind me to ask, where on earth did Thomas Davis get the word baotho, which he uses in one of his poems, and explains in a foot-note to mean “beautiful?” The line runs, I think—
“‘O baotho! O baotho! O baotho!’ I said;”
but I am not sure of what poem it is in.
(44) Sgeaṁaiġil, pronounced both skav-eel and sk’yow-eel, I have heard for sharp noises, like high-pitched screaming, etc. I do not think I have heard it of a dog. Here is a locus classicus from an old, probably Eliza- bethan, poet, who was so annoyed by his bed-fellow’s snoring that he said:—
“Mná móḋaċ’ go ngoiṁ ag dul
Gar áraċ ar sdur dá mbrón,
Caoi ċaḋain ar oiḋċe ḟuair
Is binne ’ná fuaim do ṡrón’;
Sgeaṁġail sgine re sgrios práis
Ni ṁeasaim gur páis do m’ ċeann,
No géim cáirte re cloic ċruaiḋ
O’n dord tig uait ar mo ṗeall.”
i.e., “Handsome women, with bitterness weeping, without help to [cause them] cease from their grief; the wail of a barnacle goose on a cold night—they are more melodious than the voice of thy nose. The sgeamhghail of a knife scraping brass I do not deem a torture to my head, nor the roar of a cart over hard stones, in comparison with the aord which comes from you upon my pallet.”—An Chraoiḃín Aoiḃinn.
(45) In the song An Spailpín Fánaċ, which was re- printed in a recent number of the Journal, the word lítis occurs. What does it mean? An Buinneán Aoraċ makes it clear that he is not satisfied that it means lily. I am strongly of a opinion that it is an abstract noun. It may mean lily whiteness; but this is mere conjecture. I have never heard the word used. I have asked several Irish speakers what its meaning is; but none of them could enlighten me. I have seen it nowhere except in the “Poets and Poetry of Munster,” second series, and there it occurs at least four times. In a song by John Collins, entitled An Buaċaill Bán, these verses occur (p. 4, ll. 1, 2):
“Do ḃí uile ṡoillse na gréine ag rainceaḋ
’Na leacain ṁíonla tre lítis bán.”
Again, I find the following verses in David O’Herlihy’s Táid Ag Teaċt (p. 46, ll. 16 18):
“Lítis agus caora
Bhí ag coiṁeasgair ’s ag pléireaċt
Go fíoċṁar ’na séiṁ-leacain ġrinn.”
Again, in An Spailpín Fánaċ, we have (p. 78, l. 23)—
’Na mbéiḋ lasaḋ trí lítis ’na gnaoi mar eala.”
Finally, in Siġile Bheag Ní Chonnolláin, by William O’Leanain, I find (p. 142, ll. 14, 15)—
“Bhí daṫ na gcaor ’san lítis
Ag coiṁeasgar ’na cruṫ go h-árd.”
Collins and O’Herlihy were both natives of Cork; O’Leanain was a native of Kerry, and so likewise, as is evident from the song itself, was the anonymous author of An Spailpín Fánaċ. The meaning of lítis ought, therefore, to be understood in Cork and Kerry; and per- haps some reader of the Journal, hailing from one or other of these counties, may be able to definitely fix its signifi- cation. I wonder if it can possibly be a loan-word from the Greek. Considering the classical traditions of Cork and Kerry, and indeed of Munster generally, it may per- haps be. If it be, it undoubtedly means smoothness, and is either from λῖτός (smooth), or λειότης (smoothness.)
Miċéal P. O hIceaḋa, C.C.
(46) June, p. 39: is trom í an ċearc i ḃfad; in Aran (Galway) this proverb runs is trom cearc i ḃfad, and is understood to mean that (even so light a burden as) a hen is heavy (when carried) far. The meaning of the two proverbs from West Clare marked doubtful seems to me fairly clear: is fearr suiḋe i mbun na cruaiċe ’ná suiḋe in a h-áit, it is better to have a stack to watch than the empty place of one; is beag rud is buaine ’ná an duine points to the shortness and uncertainty of human life.
Mr. J. H. Lloyd has transmitted a note from Mr. Flannery, in which, summing up what has been written about the Waterford saying. nár éirġiḋ an t-aċsaḋas leat, he adheres strongly to the view that the word in question originates not from excise, but from success, or the French equivalent, succès.