There was once a widow in County Cavan, and, as often it was, she was quite poor. She had one son, named Peadar, and the two lived in a small hut and rented a small potato patch. It was late spring, or perhaps early summer, and the two of them had already consumed most of the potatoes harvested last year. It would be many, many weeks before the potatoes from this years’ planting could be harvested.
The widow and her son carefully rationed the little food they had left. Besides the remaining potatoes, they had some flour and some greens, as well as a chicken which laid an egg almost every day. It would be a few months of hunger, indeed, until the new potatoes would be fit for eating.
One evening, Peadar said to his mother: “We do not have enough food for the two of us. You should have it all. And kill the chicken, if need be, so that you may have some meat.”
“I will go and seek my fortune,” Peadar added. “When I meet it, I will return and share it with you. And I will be back in time for the harvest.”
The widow was distraught and could barely imagine the loss of her only son. But she understood, both the dire straights the two of them were in and her son’s desire to seek his fortune. And so she gave Peadar her blessing.
Early the next morning, Peadar left his home. His mother stood at the yard gate and watched him until he reached the horizon. Tears filled her eyes as he walked away.
Peadar had no plan, truth be told, as to how he would find his fortune, or where to go to seek it. He merely got to the road and kept walking, hoping that he would either find his fortune or, perhaps, his fortune would find him.
The day passed, as well as the night, and Peadar resumed his journey. The road led him by the side of a bog. And there, inside of the bog, was a poor donkey up to his shoulders in the bog. The donkey was not far from some tall grass which, no doubt, the donkey was striving to come at before getting stuck in the bog.
The donkey saw Peadar approaching, and said: “Please, please, help me out or I will be drowned!”
“You don’t have to ask twice,” said Peter.
Peter saw several large rocks lying on the ground. He picked them up, one by one, and threw them in front of the donkey. The donkey wiggled and squirmed the best he could until he got one front hoof on top of a rock. With that, he was able to get some balance to move another hoof onto another rock. Step by step, the donkey was able to move out of the bog and on to solid ground.
“Thank you, young man,” said the donkey. “I will return the favor someday, I promise you.”
“And what is your name?” the donkey added.
“It is Peadar,” was the reply.
“And where are you going?” asked the donkey.
“I am going to seek my fortune till the harvest comes in,” said Peadar.
“Well if you like,” said the donkey, “I will go along with you. Who knows what luck we may have.”
So the two of them, Peadar and the donkey, continued the journey together.
The next day they went into a small village. There they saw a group of young lads chasing a dog with a kettle tied to his tail. The dog ran up to Peadar for protection. The donkey let out such a roar that the gossoons turned around and ran away as fast as they could.
Peadar untied the kettle from the dog’s tail, and the dog said: “I am much obliged to you, young man. What is your name?”
“I’m Peadar.”
“And where are you and the donkey going?” asked the dog.
“We are going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in,” replied Peadar.
“I would be proud if I could come with you, and finally be rid of those evil boys,” said the dog.
“Well,” said Peadar, “you are welcome to come along.”
The three of them – Peadar, the donkey and the dog – moved on and left the village. They came upon an old stone wall and sat down beside it. Peadar shared the few morsels of food he had with the dog, and the donkey nibbled on a bunch of thistles.
While they were eating and chatting, a half-starved cat walked by. The cat gave out a cry which would make your heart ache.
“I have never seen such a sad looking cat,” said Peadar as he gave the cat a morsel of food.
“Bless you, young man,” said the cat, “and may you never know a hungry belly.”
“May I be so bold as to ask you your name and where you are heading?” asked the cat.
“We are seeking our fortune till the harvest comes in,” said Peadar, “and you are welcome to join us if you wish.”
“I would love to join you with all of my heart,” said the cat.
And thus the four of them – Peadar, the donkey, the dog and the cat – continued their quest to fine fortune.
The next day, while traveling on a narrow road, the four traveling companions heard a loud cackling cry – the kind of cry only heard by a rooster about to become someone’s dinner. All of a sudden, up jumped a fox with a large black rooster in his mouth.
“Oh you villain!” shouted the donkey, roaring on his hind legs.
“Stop that this instant!” shouted the dog as it chased after the fox.
The fox dropped the rooster like a hot piece of coal and scampered off into the field. The rooster, saved from becoming dinner for the fox, was still trembling.
“Musha”, cried the rooster, “wasn’t it my good fortune that brought you my way. I will never forget your kindness.”
“And what is your name,” the rooster asked, “and where are you going?”
“We are going to seek our fortune till the harvest comes in,” said Peadar. “And you may join us if you would like. You may even ride on the back of the donkey until you regain your wits.”
Peadar and his friends – which now included the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the rooster – continued on their journey. As the sun went down, with no village or even a cabin in sight, the group laid down in a field, making a bed in the long grass.
Long after the soundness of sleep was upon them all, the rooster began to crow, as roosters often do when the sun comes up.
“What are you doing,” cried the donkey. “You disturbed me from my sleep. What is the matter?”
“It is daybreak that is the matter,” replied the rooster. “Don’t you see the light over yonder?”
“I see the light indeed,” said Peadar, “but that is from a candle and not from the sun. Now that you have roused us, why don’t we see if they will offer us lodging.”
So they all shook themselves, went through the grass and briars and into a hollow. There was the cabin, which they had failed to see before. There was a light coming through the window and, along with it, they heard singing and laughing, and even cursing.
“Let’s take it easy,” whispered Peadar, “and walk lightly until we see what sort of people we have to deal with.”
And so the crept up quietly to the window. Inside, they saw six robbers – with pistols and knives – sitting at a table. They were eating roast beef and drinking ale.
“Aye, it was a great haul we made at the home of Lord Farnham,” said one ugly-looking thief.
“And thanks be to the steward,” said another, “for letting us into the home.”
“To the steward!” shouted another, as they each took another drink of ale.
Peadar whispered to the donkey to put his front hoofs on the sill of the window. He told the dog to climb on top of the donkey’s head. And the cat on top of the dog’s head. And the rooster on top of the cat. So the rooster was on top of the cat; the cat on top of the dog; the dog on top of the donkey; and the donkey at the window sill.
Peadar then gave a signal and they all sung out like mad!
The donkey yelled “hee-haw, hee-haw!”
The dog barked “bow-wow, bow-wow!”
The cat cried “meow-meow!”
The rooster crowed “cock-a-doodle do!”
But when they all yelled out together, it sounded more like “hee-bow-meow-cock-a-haw-wow-meow-doodle-do!”
And the four friends of Peadar yelled this sound over, and over, and over again.
The robbers had never heard such a sound. They looked out of the window and saw a four headed monster. It appeared as a single animal, with the head of a donkey, and of a dog, and of a cat, and of a rooster.
The robbers dropped their pistols and knives, blew out the candle, and ran out of the house as fast as they could. They had never before been so frightened in all of their days. Most people believe that the robbers did not stop running until they were out of County Cavan completely. And no one has ever seen them since.
Peadar and his friends entered the cabin, closed the shutters, and lit the candle. The robbers, in turns out, left plenty of roast beef and ale behind. Peadar, the donkey, the dog, the cat, and the rooster ate and drank until all of their hunger and thirst were gone. They soon laid down to rest. Peadar in a bed, the donkey in the stable, the dog on a mat, the cat by the fire, and the rooster on a perch.
When the sun rose the next morn, the rooster did his job and woke everyone up. The group made a fine breakfast from the food remaining from the night before. They soon discovered that the robbers, in their haste, left the gold and silver taken from Lord Farnham. Peadar vowed to return it straight away.
Away they went, Peadar and his friends, traveling over the road, through the bogs, up the hills and down the dales. In due time, they came upon the manor of Lord Farnham. They were greeted, though, not by the Lord but by his steward.
The steward gave a cross look at them and said: “What do you want here? We have nothing here for you at all.”
“We want what you don’t have to give us,” said Peadar. “And that is common civility.”
“Off with you now,” said the steward, “or I’ll take a switch to you all.”
The rooster, then perched on the head of the donkey, replied: “Will you be telling anybody who it was that opened the door for the robbers the other night?”
Ah, but the color of the steward’s faced turn red at this response. To make matters worse, Lord Farnham and his pretty daughter were standing at the door and heard the entire conversation.
“I’d be glad to hear your answer to the question,” Lord Farnham shouted.
“Ah, my lord, don’t believe that rascal with the red comb on his head,” said the steward. “I did not open the door to the six robbers.”
“And how did you know there were six robbers, if you are so innocent?” said the lord.
“Never mind,” said Peadar. “All of the gold and silver is here in this sack. I hope you will not begrudge us our supper after our long walk.”
“Begrudge, indeed,” said the lord. “Not one of you will ever see a poor day if I can help it.”
All of them were welcomed by the lord, as the steward himself was banished. The donkey was given the best stall in the stable. The dog was given the roam of the yard, and the cat domain over the kitchen. The rooster took command over the hen house.
Peadar became the new steward of the manor. Soon thereafter, he went to see his mother and brought her back to the manor with him. She settled quite comfortably in a cottage nearby.
And all of them were as happy as you please.
Some notes about Peadar and His Friends: This is my version of an old Celtic tale, published in the 1800s as Jack and His Comrades in the compilation by Patrick Kennedy, Legendary Fictions of the Irish Celts. The story itself is certainly much older. It is, of course, quite similar to Bremen Town Musicians, first published by the Brothers Grimm in 1819. The brothers got the story from an 18th Century storyteller, Dorothea Viehmann. It is of course difficult to determine whether the Germans got the story from the Irish, or the Irish from the Germans, or both of them from somewhere else. The source of the top illustration is unknown. The photograph is curtesy of natpacker.com and is of the Bremen Musicians bronze statue by Gerhard Marcks in 1953, at the town hall of Bremen, Germany.