Tradition has it that the Naul area, just west of Balbriggan, preserved Irish until very recently, a family of the Kirwans, locally "Karvan", being said to be the last speakers. Though Mr. A. Ward disputes the claim of Catherine Karvan, who died about 1899, to have known more than "very little" Irish. Irish was spoken in Stamullin near Balbriggan at the time of the Ordinance Survey - the Naul is only three miles from Stamullin, and is in a range of hills near the only bog in Fingal. The tradition then seems to be right about the old people having Irish forty years ago. Mr Ward's contention that they hadn't because they couldn't, being in the Pale, and in Fingal, appearing vitiated by the Irish in Stamullin (just on the Dublin-Meath border and subsequently covered by the O.S. Letters, Meath, which do not mention the Naul, it being in Co. Dublin). Liam Ó'Rinn states that Irish was also spoken at Julianstown, ten miles north of Balbriggan, and just south of Drogheda, a generation ago.

From Dialect in East and Mid-Leinster, Gaelic Survivals, by Donn Piatt.

Bhus so díbh Cath na Bearna . . . (Here's an account of the Battle of Bearna)

do fearadh go láidir líonmhar . . . (which was fought fiercely, in great numbers)

Idir lucht ite na praisce . . . . . . (between the drinkers of gruel)

Is lucht an photata dhílis. . . . (and those loyal to the humble spud.)

Tig ar dtús Mac Mhánais . . . (First off arrives McManus)

Lán straiceadh as a fhómhar . . . (swollen with pride for his crop)

Iarrann ar Dhia na nGrása . . . (and who asks of Graceful God)

Scrios ar photataibh na hEorpa. . . . (to destroy all the potatoes in Europe.)

Nach iad amháin is ciontach . . . (For they alone are to blame)

Nach bhfuil cionnach ar eorna . . . (for this disregard for barley)

Nach iad do chuir faoi mhímheas . . . (and didn't they bring about contempt)

Cruithneacht chaoin is pónra. . . . (for our noble wheat and beans.)

Ar Uilliam Borb Ó'Brothaidh . . . (Says Uilliam Ó'Borthaidh, the ruffian)

Fearr corraithe na milte . . . (a man who could stir up thousands)

"Thugais th'éitheach, a bhriolláin . . . ("You lie through you teeth, you half-wit)

A chrónsmutáin lán d'aoileach. . . . (you swarthy lump, full of dung.")

Off the eastern coast of Breágha (or Bregia) in Fingal Lower, are three islands of the type the Vikings called 'skerries'. Their ancient name is Inse Maccu Chor. Colt, Patrick's Island and Sionnach are their names today, although Shennick's Island is used in English as the legal name of the third. I never heard the older English-speakers say anything other than 'Sionnach' with a pure Gaelic intonation. "Over on Sionnach" they used to say.

There is a strong tide between Rubha-Oileán (if that really be the name of Red Island) and Colt, but cattle swim it, with a rope tied to their horns, while being brought back and forth.

It is said that Patrick came to Skerries - his foot print is pointed out on Red Island, near the bathing spot - and the people of Skerries and Balbriggan accuse each other of having stolen his goat, just as the people of Omeath and district do and like some stories in the old manuscripts. The Book of Armagh testifies that Patrick came 'ad insulas Maccu Chor et insulam orientalem quae dicitur Insula Patricii' and the name Oileán Pádraig - Island Patrick on an old English map - exists for more than one thousand years.

Further out again are two remarkable islands, which are practically one, which are called in Irish Cnoc Dá Bhiolla or Carraig Dá Bhiolla - Rockabill in English. There is little doubt but that this Dá Bhiolla is the Celtic god Bolgios, Beli in the Welsh language and Balor in the tradition of Donegal. The Irish speakers of Mayo give the name 'na Biollaí' to some rocks west of Achill.

Translated from Cois Life Fadó, by Donn Piatt.

...I will give here the full Farney legend, as I heard it from the old men in the closing years of the last century. The Glas Gaibhleann was grazing in the rich limestone land about Donaghmoyne in the centre of the parish of that name, and so great was her flow of milk that she filled every vessel brought to her. There is a hollow in a field not far from Donaghmoyne old church (Founded by St. Patrick) still called Poll na Leamhnachta or "the Hollow of the New Milk," which she used to fill at milking time.

This continued until a mean trickster won a wager by betting that he would bring a vessel, which she would not fill. He brought a sieve. Disgusted with this low trick the cow ceased to give any more than an ordinary cow ever after.

She had a calf, and at the time of this story she was in possession of Balor Béimeann, who had determined to drive her southward into Leinster. He knew the cow would be unwilling to leave Leinster, so he told the gilly whom he had minding the cow to drive her southward, but always to keep the calf in front of the cow, for as long as the cow saw the calf before her she would not look back.

The gilly, followed of course by Balor, drove the cow and calf southward. But what is now the sea outside counties Meath and Dublin was then a flat plain growing a profusion of flowers. The gilly began plucking the flowers and so forgot his charge, with the result that the calf fell behind the cow. The cow looked back to see where the calf was, and then noticed the hills and mountains of Ulster now far behind her, at which she started bellowing most excitedly.

Balor raised the eyelid of his one eye to see what was wrong with the cow, but the fatal power of his eye at once turned both cow and calf into stone: and the Ulster men when they used to go to Co. Dublin to reap the harvest used to see "The Cow and the Calf," two islands off the coast of Co. Dublin.

As far as I can now ascertain these islands are the two Rockabill islands, a large one and a small one close beside it some miles east of Skerries. And it is a peculiar fact that while the underlying rock in Meath and Dublin is limestone, the Rockabill islands are granite, showing a connexion with Co. Wicklow on one hand and with Co. Down on the other.

What happened to the gilly, or what Balor did on losing his cow and calf is unknown to the writer; the legend as related to me, ceased at this point.

From 'Miscellanea' by Henry Morris, in Bealoideas 7: 244-247, 1937.

Lodmar re taobh trágha thall . . . (We went to yonder beach)

cco síthén Inbhir Domhnann: . . . (to the fairy-dwelling of Inbhear Domhnann;)

aoin-bhean san ccnuc ar ar gcionn, . . . (a sole woman on the hill above us,)

inghin mhín fhéatta fhoilt-fhionn. . . . (a smooth, melodious fair-haired maiden.)

Seinnidh-sí cruit, caoin a cor, . . . (She gently plays the harp,)

gur chuir sinn 'nar síor-chodladh: . . . (so that we all fall in a deep sleep:)

rom-beir-si lé iar sin amach . . . (and after that she brings us out)

ina hoilén iongantach. . . . (to her wondrous island.)

Dom-rad a n-uaimh nduibh ndorchu . . . (To a black and murky cave)

bhail a rabhsat m'aos comhtha, . . . (where my companions)

gan soillsi tré bhioth [a] síor . . . (were without light)

acht gorta, fuacht, is iomshníomh. . . . (and hungry, cold and frightened.)

Seachtmhogha laoch isin toigh . . . (Seventy warriors gathered in that house)

a nglasoibh, a ngéibhionnaibh, . . . (in chains, imprisoned,)

i n-úaimh Dá Bhiolla gan bhrecc: . . . (in the cave of Dá Bhiolla, no lie:)

ní chúala féin a leithéid. . . . (something unheard of.)

An uair líonadh an mhuir . . . (When the tide was in flow )

ticceadh toran 'nar n-uamhuigh, . . . (such noise would fill the cave,)

go mbeantaoi sinn ó lár, . . . (and we would be swept up,)

go mbímaoís uile ar urshnámh. . . . (and all of us drenched.)

An uair no théiccheadh amach . . . (And when the tide went out)

an mhuir uathmhar iongantach . . . (- the terrifying dreadful sea -)

do thuitmís threasa tréna . . . (we would fall heavily)

im na cairrcibh cruaidh-ghéara. . . . (against the hard, sharp rocks.)

Translated from Agallamh na Seanórach, Nessa Ni Sheaghdha (Ed.)

Arrish. (Don't be arrishing on me). Imitating me.

Bolcaiseán: Ragwort.

Camán, drawled as "cawhmahn": Hurley-game.

Clash: A wet ditch.

Dallan: A goatskin covered winnowing utensil.

Pocán: A he-goat.

Pincín: A sprat (fish).

All these, except pocán, which is even in stress, have first syllable stress.

No Irish, but a large number of Irish words, of which

(a) All in 'ach,' and 'een' have strong first syllable stress, as 'Sionnach' (name of island)

(b) Three syllable words in 'an,' as 'balcaiseán,' 'liúdramán¹,' have first syllable stress.

(c) Two syllable words in 'án' tend to second-syllable or even stress, 'dullán²,' 'Knockshedaun' (local for 'Knocksedan')

The only word in 'óg' I have noted, 'ciotóg' is nearly even in stress but bears a slight stress on the first syllable.

Other sounds: 'ch' broad is always fully pronounced as in 'Tochar Hill,' Skerries.

Béal Cam and Béal Luig near Milverton, Skerries are 'Bael Komm' and 'Bael-Igg,' respectively. 'Aithris,' pronounced 'arrish' is used in Naul English for 'tell,' i.e., Don't arrish on me.

...That the Ulster-Meath variety of Irish, spoken at Drogheda, Navan, Kells and Trim reached to Naul seems obvious from the evidence of the remaining words, and justifies the writer, who, speaking of the French landing at Killala, said a man greeted the French in the dialect of Leinster, saying "Cadé mar tá tú?"

From Dialect in East and Mid-Leinster, Gaelic Survivals, by Donn Piatt.