The Man Who Had No Story#
I remember hearing a version of The Man With No Story, as told by Eddie Lenihan, at the first storytelling festival I went to, at Great Linford, in Milton Keynes. If I recall correctly, it was organised by Word in Edgeways, a storytelling group that was active in the area at the time. I heard Eddie tell the same story again, or variants of it, several times over the years that followed, and it always struck me as as the sort of story that would be good to tell as a first “full length” story. Indeed, that version was one of the stories I first told when I started attending folk nights on the Isle of Wight, and it remains one of my favourite tales.
Here’s a version of Eddie Lenihan’s telling of the tale, taken from his StoryTeller 1 & 2 album.
An essentially identical version can be found in the Penguin Folklore Library edition Irish Folk Tales, edited by Henry Glassie, 1985, and collected from Michael James Timoney, in Donegal, by Séamas Ó’ Catháin in 1965.
The gist of the story is this::
Brian O’Connell is a basket maker. He has collected the sally rods [willow rods] from miles around and is about to give up. There is a pond nearby he hasn’t tried, but: the Faeries. His wife gives him an ultimatum, makes him lunch, and he goes. The rods are plentiful. A mist comes up, so he eats his lunch. The mist gets worse. He sees a cottage, a man and a woman by the hearth who know him by name. “Tell us a story.” “ I have no story.” “Bah; fetch water from well.” Shi breeze blows up, lands him back down. He sees a cottage. Wake house. Young wife knows him by name. No conversation. Big man says: “get a fiddler.” “Haven’t we the finest fiddler?” And he was. “Fetch a priest.” “Haven’t we the finest priest?” and he was. “Time to get him buried.” Three men of a size to carry the coffin, one much taller. “Get a surgeon.” “Haven’t we the finest surgeon?” and he was; and he cut the man down to size. Go to Church yard. Wall all round. Walk round once, twice, third time. “No gate?” Over the wall. Brian last on ground pushes coffin up to men on wall. Pull Brian up, they go down. He pushes coffin down, Shi breeze blows up, lands him back by the well. Cottage: old man and woman. “Have I a story to tell you!” Bed time: take the bed. During night, feet cold, pulls up blanket: no blanket, no room, just a stone pillow and basket of rods. Goes home. Never makes a basket again.
A nice variant with a different set of adventures comes in the form of The Story of Paddy McGee, as told by Nick Hennessey for the East Anglian Story Festival in 2021.
Several other versions can be found, in both English and Irish collected variants, in the Irish Schools Collection, as publishd by Dúchas / the National Folklore Collection, UCD.
Another variant that comes from the Scottish traveller tradition has been collected several times from Betsy Whyte.
Note
Summary-ish A laird of the black arts held a gathering for his workers, and served sowans [which Betsy explains]. Everybody had to: “Tell a story, sing a sang, / Show your bum, or oot ye gang.” There was a golden guinea for whoever told the biggest lie. One cattleman couldn’t make up anything, so the laird sent him to clean out his boat, but he floated away in it. He discovered that he had turned into a woman. When ‘she’ landed, she met a young man, who took her home to his mother. In the course of time, they got married and had children. One day they were out walking and saw the boat. The woman stepped into it, and it carried her off. She turned back into the cattleman and returned to find that no time had passed. Greetin [weeping] for his lost family, he told them what had happened, and won the guinea. The Black Laird had made him imagine it all so that he would have something to tell.
Hugh Lutpon provides a very readable - and tellable - take on that variant in the chapter “invocation and evocation” of *The Drewming of Place”, pp. 42-50.
See also: John D. Niles (2006) Bede’s Cædmon, “The Man Who Had No Story” (Irish Tale-Type 2412B), Folklore, 117:2, 141-155, DOI: 10.1080/00155870600707821 (PDF via Google Scholar or via Internet Archive), which claims that Book IV, chapter XXIV of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of England is also an example of the same tale type.
We can also find several variants of The Man Who Had No Story / Tale Type AT2412B (The Types of the Irish Folktale (O´ Su´illeabha´in and Christiansen 1963, 343–4)) in the Irish Schools Collection.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0106, p. 540
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4427880/4353941/4444444 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0106, Page 540 “The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0106, Page 540-1” by Dúchas © National Folklore Collection, UCD is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0.
COLLECTOR Brigid Keady Gender female Address Cornacartan, Co. Mayo INFORMANT Walter Keady Relation unknown Gender male Address Cornacartan, Co. Mayo LANGUAGE English Once a man from Islandmore went back to Clonbur visiting. When the night came the man of the house asked him to sing a song and he said “I am not able.” He asked him to whistle awhile he said he was not able, he asked him to tell a story and he said he was not able. He had his shoes taken off. The man of the house took his shoes and he threw them out. The man went out. When he was coming in he met two men. They asked him to go with them. They went along and they told the man when they would come to a graveyard they would go in and rob a grave. He went into the grave. When he was within they heard talk coming and they rolled in the stone in top of the man and ran away. The people that were talking were people coming to rob the grave also. When they came to the grave they rolled back the stone and they saw the man they ran away. The man went home and after that he had a story to tell. End.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 1302, p. 315-319
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4428273/4390606/4458746 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 1032, Page 315-319 COLLECTOR Nora Gallagher Gender female Address Rathtinny Glebe, Co. Donegal INFORMANT Mr Gallagher Relation parent
In this county at one time there was a Travelling tinker called Pat Driver. He Shared the shelter of many a cabin on his rounds. Many a night he stayed in a still house where poteen was made. In good weather he often slept on the bare leather, or on the ditch with no roof over him but the vault of heavens.
After a hard days work mending kettles and saucepans in the Moville district he started for Culdaff. Night overtook him on a lonely road. he knocked at one door after another asking for a night’s lodgings while he jingled the half pences in his pocket, but was everywhere refused. He wondered now where was the boasted hospitality of Innishowen. It was no use to be able to pay when the people seemed so churlish. Thus thinking he made his way towards a light a little further on and knocked at another cabin door. An old man and woman were seated one at each side of the cabin. “Will you be pleased to give me a night’s lodgings sir? asked Pat respectfully. “can you tell a story?” returned the old man. “no then sir. I canna say I’m good at story-telling replied the puzzled tinker. “Then you maun just gang further, for none but them that can tell a story will get in here.” This reply was made in so decided a tone that Pat did not attempt to repeat his appeal but turned away reluctantly to resume his weary journey. “A story indeed” muttered he. “Auld wives fables to please the weans!” As he took up his bundle of tinkering implements, he observed a barn standing rather behind the dwelling-house, and, aided by the rising moon, he made his way towards it.
It was a clean, roomy barn, with a piled up heap of straw in one corner. Here was a shelter not to be despised; so Pat crept under the straw, and was soon asleep. He could not have slept very long when he was awakened by the tramp of feet, and peeping cautiously through a crevice in his straw covering, he saw four immensely tall man enter the barn, dragging a body, which they throw roughly upon the floor. They next lighted a fire in the middle of the barn, and fastened the corpse by the feet with a great rope to a beam in the roof. One of them then began to turn it slowly before the fire. “Come on” said he addressing a gigantic fellow, the tallest of the four “I’m tired; you be to tak’ your turn “Faith an’ troth I’ll no turn him” replied the big man. “There’s Pat Diver in under the straw, why wouldn’t he tak’ his turn?” With hideous clamour the four men called the wretched Pat, who seeing there was no escape, thought it was his wisest plan to come forth as he was bidden.
“Now, Pat” said they, “you’ll turn the corpse but if you let him burn you’ll be tied up there, and roasted in his place”. Pat’s hair stood on end, and the cold perspiration poured from his forehead but there was nothing for it but to perform his dreadful task. Seeing him fairly embarked in it the tall men went away. Soon, however, the flames rose so high as to singe the rope, and the corpse fell with a great thud upon the fire, scattering the ashes and embers, and extracting a howl of anguish from the miserable cook, who (refused) rushed to the door and ran for his life. He ran on until he was ready to drop with fatigue when seeing a drain overgrown with tall, rank grass, he thought he would creep in there and lie till morning.
But he was not many minutes in the drain before he heard the heavy tramping again, and the four men came up with their burthen, which they laid down on the edge of the drain “I’m tired” said one to the giant; “it’s your turn to carry him a piece now” “Faith and troth [sic] I’ll no carry him” replied he “but there’s Pat Diver in the drain, why wouldn’t he come out and tak’ his turn “Come out, Pat, come out” roared all the men, and Pat almost dead with fright, crept out.
He staggered on under the weight of the corpse until he reached Kiltown Abbey, a turn festooned with ivy, where the brown owl hooted all night long, and the forgotten dead slept around the walls under dense, matted tangles of brambles and ben-weed. No one ever buried there now, but Pats’ tall companions turned into the wild graveyard, and began digging a grave.
Pat seeing them thus engaged, thought he might once more try to escape, and climbed up into a hawthorn tree in the fence, hoping to be hidden in the boughs. “I’m tired said the man who was digging the grave; here take the spade”, addressing the big man, it’s your turn.” Faith an’ troth [sic] its no my turn “replied he, as before. “There’s Pat Diver in the tree, why wouldn’t he come down and tak’ his turn.”
Pat came down to take the spade, but just then the cocks began to crow, and the men looked at one another. “We must go” said they, and well it is for you Pat Diver that the cocks crowed, for if they had not you’d just ha’ been bundled into that grave with the corpse.
Two months passed and Pat had wandered far, and wide over the county Donegal, when he chanced to arrive at Raphoe during a fair. Among the crowd that filled the Diamond he came suddenly on the big man.
“How are you, Pat Diver” said he, bending down to look into the tinkers’ face. “You’ve the advantage of me sir, for I havna’ the pleasure of knowing you “faltered Pat “Do you not know me, Pat?” Whisper- “When you go back to Innishowen, you’ll have a story to tell.”
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 1101, p. 176-8
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4493728/4414480/4528666 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 1101, Page 176-8 COLLECTOR Nora Kelly Gender female Address Teevickmoy, Co. Donegal INFORMANT (name not given) Relation parent A Story Once upon a time, there lived in Tyrcallen a man called Tom Mc Ginley. He was going to the fair of Letterkenny to buy a horse and he had no time-piece. The moon was shining and he thought it was near day.
He started, but it always got darked from when he left home. He walked on until he saw a light. He went into the house. He saw a little man sitting on one side of the fire and a little woman on the other. His feet were wet and he took off his boots to dry them.
The man says, “Tom McGinley could you tell me a tale or a story” Tom says. “I never learned a tale or a story”. The man lifted Tom’s shoe and threw it out of the door. He said, “follow that and when you come back you’ll be able to tell both a take and a story”. Sometime after this the little woman repeated the same words, and Tom gave her some as before, and she lifted his other shoe and did the same.
Tom had to look for his shoes, and when he got them he went on to Letterkenny to buy the horse. It got no clearer and he went on until he saw another light.
He went in and it was a man underboard. The people all called him by his name. He wondered at them knowing him and he did not know one of them. He was not long sitting until a lovely lady came up out of the room. She said it was time some one was away for her father’s coffin, because they had to go to the Well of the World’s End for it.
There was a big fellow with red hair lying in the corner, he got up, shook himself and said, Tom and I will go. Tom says I could not go because I have to go to Letterkenny to buy a horse. The fellow says we will give you a good horse. When Tom went to the door, he saw two horses saddled and bridled, and he thought he would steer for Letterkenny. He pulled hard but his pulling was no use. The red haired fellow kept in front. They got the coffin and returned to the house again. They were not long sitting until the lady came again, and said it was time some one was away with the funeral, because they had to go to Donaghmore churchyard. Tom thought he would go too. It got no clearer and he went on until he came to the churchyard.
The lady went forward and looked into the grave, and said, that grave is not long enough for my father. The red haired fellow said, if its long enough for Tom McGinley it is long enough for your father. Says Tom you’ll not put me in there, so they started to wrestle and Tom fell. The cocks crew and when he came to himself he was holding a rush bush. He jumped to his feet, went on to Letterkenny, bought the horse, returned home, and from that day to the day he died, he could tell both a tale and a story.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0022, p. 424-5
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4562127/4561875/4569833
The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0022, Page 424-5
A few years ago a beggar man came over across the bog to Shaughnessay’s house and he was drenched wet. He went in to the house and asked for lodging but he was refused and old Shaughnessay told him to go over to maker’s and he would be let stay there for the night.
He went over and Michael maker said he would let him stay if he had a good story & will him but the linker said he had no story
‘very well’, said Michael ‘you must go out to the cock of straw for a gabhal of straw.’
Out went the bunker and when he had the gabhal of straw pulled the cock of straw jumped out on the road and he went outside the the cock and then the cock jumped in but the bunker waited out on the road for a minute. Then he saw a coffin coming over the road and four people carrying it. They asked him to help them to carry the coffin before any person would see them.
It was over in the bog between four ‘caoys’ when the had the coffin left down one man said
“I will go out to Connelly’s for a spade to make the grave and let ye mend the coffin will I come’ Over he went but he did not come back. Then the second man went over to see what was keeping him and then another man went over to see what was keeping the second man. They kept doing that until the four had gone and then the bunker was left alone.
So he spread legs on the coffin but all that was only a dream and next morning when he awoke he found himself sitting up on top of Mahery’s old house and his hands around the chimney.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0009, p. 95-7
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4602698/4596188/4606529 Translated by ChatGPT from the Irish The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0009, Page 95-7 An Fear a Chuaigh Amach
There was a man searching in a neighbor’s house one night, and there was a circle around the fire telling stories. The night was very dark and cold.
After a while, everyone had told a story and they were asked to tell another. “I have no story,” he said.
He was a poor man who had no trade and there was no noise. He wouldn’t tell any story and it wasn’t long until the company dispersed and everyone went home.
This man went his way and wandered in the hill, as his house was on the side of the mountain. He was going until he saw a light in the distance. He made towards the light and saw nothing but a small cottage.
He asked for lodgings and was welcomed. When he had eaten his supper, she put out a turf of peat for him. He went to gather bogwood and was just about to lift a crogall (a type of peat basket) when three or four came from behind and hung him until he was almost dead.
When he came to himself, they sewed him up in a sack and left him outside. He crawled back to the small cottage where the old woman was. She told him that he will remember the story, and that he will have a good story to tell on the next night, as he said tonight that he had no story.
He went to sleep and did not wake up until late in the day, lying in the same place where he had slept, with his head resting on a thorn bush.
There was no sight of the house or the old woman. He did not say the next night that he had no story.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0199, p. 21-3
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4602758/4601689/4633468 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0199, Page 21-3 COLLECTOR Maureen Mc Sharry Gender female Address Mullagh, Co. Leitrim INFORMANT Hugh Mc Sharry Gender male Age 56 Address Mullagh, Co. Leitrim Folklore Funny Story There was a man one time in this locality and he went away to buy a horse, he was going across the mountains and it was falling dark on him. He came as far as a house and went in and sat down. The man of the house came in and spoke to him and they had a talk and he told him where he was going and that it was getting dark on him and he could not make his journey. So the man of the house made him welcome to stay for the night and told the wife put on the kettle and make tea for him. SO they were sitting around the fire chatting and the man asked him would he sing a song and he said he could not sing at all and he asked him could he tell a story and he said he couldn’t tell a story either so he said to the wife “Fix up a bed for this poor man he is tired he can neither sing a song or tell a story but he will be able to tell one story when he goes home.” So he prepared to go to bed and he had the price of the horse in his pocket and as he was afraid they would rob him so he put the money in waist coat pocket and took off his shirt and put on the waist coat and put the shirt on him over it. The man of the house had a brother living opposite his house a good bit away. There was a child dead in it and they had a was so this man said to the wife “Go up to the bed and lie in beside this man and I’ll go over to the wake now.” So she went up and went in beside him in the bed and he said “O God bless us this is no place for you to come.” and she said “och shure he’ll not come back until morning” so it was not very long after until he came in and a shining pitch fork in his hand. “O ye common robber” says he “are you in bed with me wife and all I done for you” so he tore out of bed in his shirt and he after him with the pitch fork and when he seen the light he made for it and went through the full of the house of people where the wake was and he in his shirt and they all nearly went mad through the house. So the man of the house got up and put an old coat about him and said “this is some of Johnny’s tricks. It was not long until Johnny came in and brought him back so he made him comfortable for the night and who he was going away to buy his horse in the morning he wished him good luck.” Now me good man says he “you will be able to tell a good story in the next house you go to.” (signed) Maureen Mc Sharry (Pupil) Mullagh, Dromahair, Co. Leitrim Name of Informant Hugh Mc Sharry age 56 years Mullagh, Dromahair, Co. Leitrim
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0465, p. 74-6
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4742087/4734614/4819191 The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0465, Page 74-6 INFORMANT Patrick Mahony Gender male Age 40 Occupation farmer Address Inisfea, Co. Kerry Folk-Tale - Darby Gallivan There was a old man there long ago. He went far away to a wood for timber and he missed his way. He saw a light in a house a distance off. He went to the house where the light was. He asked lodgings, and he got them. The old man of the house was before him. He told him to go in and sit down. They were a little time near the fire. The man told the stranger to tell a story. He said he had no story, so the man of the house told Darby to tell some story a lie or the truth. He was told to go to supper but he saw no person getting it ready but two hands and he saw nothing eating it but all mouths. When bed time came on the old man told Darby to come to bed with him. They were just in bed when the man told the stranger to rise and put the scolpán on the door.
Darby had no time to put on his clothes. When he went to catch the scolpán it jumped from him. Darby followed it and he said “As far as you will go I will catch you”. He stayed all night after the scolpán. It ran into the wood and he followed it. He saw a barrel in the wood and he went into it for shelter. It was not long until a bull called the way to him. The bull was bucking the barrel. His tail went into a hold that was in the barrel. Darby got hold of his tail so the bull ran away until it got broken. Darby climbed a tree he saw three men coming and they were riding on a white horse. They made down a fire at the foot of a tree. They had a dead man between them in a spit. They said they were all right if they had some one to turn the dead man to the fire. They looked up and they saw the man on a tree. They said “Come down here Darby Gallivan and turn the spit to the fire while we will be away.” He came down and they told him not to leave a spark burn the beard and not to leave it get brown or if he would they would kill him. When he was turning the spit to the fire a spark jumped on the beard. The dead man said “Blood an’ ounds,! Darby, dont burn my beard”? Darby ran away and the dead man ran after him with the spit. He thought it was day because he saw a light at a distance. He knew it was a house. He went towards it and went in. There was the old man near the fire. He said “Hallow Darby Gallivan where were you? I am waiting here all night. “The stranger could not speak with the fright. He asked Darby had he any story. He spoke and said he had a story while he lived The old man and the stranger went to bed. When Darby woke in the morning he was stretched in a field with his head on a bunch of rushes. Where-ever he went after that he had a story to tell.
Man Who Had No Story, vol. 0260, p. 166-9
https://www.duchas.ie/en/cbes/4811581/4798958 ARCHIVAL REFERENCE The Schools’ Collection, Volume 0260, Page 166-9 NFORMANT John Gannon Gender male Age 48 Address Bracknagh, Co. Roscommon Story
Once upon a time not so long ago a man was going to a fair with his cousin That night he left home about 1 o’clock as he had to go a good bit through fields when all of a sudden didn’t he see a tall man coming towards him. He began to get afraid on account of the hour of the night and it in a very lonesome place. All at once the strange man said to him “I am going to the fair with my cousin.” You will do no such thing. You will come with me.” “No, I won’t” said the young man. I wont go with a man I never saw before in my life.” “I will do you no harm - so come along now.” So the man went with the stranger and after walking a long time and for what he thought must have taken them an hour or more they came to a lovely big house. The stranger showed the young man into a dining room. As there was a table set they both sat down. The stranger pressed a button and a lovely girl answered the bell. She was told to get supper for two and while they were waiting the strange man gave him lots of wine. Of course the young man was very nervous and he was watching the stranger in every thing he was doing. The girl came in with the supper and set everything on the table and then went out of the room. The stranger told the young man to eat a good supper and not to be afraid. So the both sat in and eat and after that they had more wine. When they had finished the stranger said “Well, my young man, will you tell me an Irish story”. “I am sorry Sir” said the young man “I never told a story in my life”. Well, will you kindly give me a song” and while saying so he leant back in his chair The young man went to do the same when his chair slipped and his feet caught underneath the table with such a bang that every thing that was on the table was scattered around the room. The stranger got up from the table and caught the young man by the back of the neck and threw him outside the door saying “You are very bad company. That is my thanks after giving you a good supper and treating you so good. The poor man was so much afraid when he got out he ran like the wind. He did not know where he was. At last he got into a potato field and he was no sooner up than down trying to get across the ridges. After that didnt he see a fire blazing a bit away from him. He made for the fire thinking that it might be tinkers or somebody else but when he got there there was no one in sight so he stood to warm himself. After a while four men came and they carrying a coffin. They left down the coffin and took out an old man and he having a long big beard and the four men began to twist and turn the old man before the fire in their turns, two at a time.
At last one of the men said to the young man “You do this man the same as you saw us doing and remember if you let one bit of his beard be burnt you will get the same treatment when we return. “Alright” said the young man taking the old man and twisting and turning him the same as he saw the other four men doing. The young man was looking behind him to see where did the four men go when a whirlwind came and caught the old mans beard and burned every single bit of it. The young man threw down the old man and made off through the fields and kept running until he got worn out with fatigue. He sat down to rest himself and didn’t he fall asleep and when daylight came didn’t he awake and where he found himself was within four score of yards from the old Church of Knockcroghery.