Conan: You have me tormented among the whole of ye.  To be without ye would be no harm at all. (Sits down and weeps.) Of all the families anyone would wish to live away from I am full sure my family is the worst.

Mother: Ah, dear, you’re worn out and contrary with the want of sleep.  Come now into the room and stretch yourself on the bed.  To go sleeping out in the grass has no right rest in it at all! (Takes his arm.)

Conan: Where’s the use of lying on my bed where it is convenient to the yard, that I’d be afflicted by the turkeys yelping and the pullets praising themselves after laying an egg! and the cackling and hissing of the geese.

Mother: Lie down so on the settle, and I’ll let no one disturb you.  You’re destroyed, avic, with the want of sleep.

Conan: There’ll be no peace in this kitchen no more than on the common highway with the people running in and out.

Mother: I’ll go sit in the little gap without, and the whole place will be as quiet as St. Colman’s wilderness of stones.

Conan: The boards are too hard.

Mother: I’ll put a pillow in under you.

Conan: Now it’s too narrow.  Leave me now it’ll be best.

Mother: Sleep and good dreams to you. (Goes singing sleepy song.)

Conan: The most troublesome family ever I knew in all my born days!  Why is that people cannot have behaviour now the same as in ancient Greece. (Sits up.) I’ll not give them the satisfaction of going asleep.  I’ll drink a sup of the tea that is black with standing and with strength. (Drinks and lies down.) I’ll engage that’ll keep me waking. (Music heard.) Is it to annoy me they are playing tunes of music?  I’ll let on to be asleep! (Shuts eyes.)

(Two large Cats with fiery eyes look over top of settle.)

1st Cat:

  See the fool that crossed our path
  Rummaging within the rath.

  Coveting a spell is bound
  Agelong in our haunted ground.

  Hid that none disturb its peace
  By a Druid out from Greece.

  Spies and robbers have no call
  Rooting in our ancient wall.

  Man or mortal what is he
  Matched against the mighty Sidhe?

2nd Cat: 

  Bid our riders of the night
  Daze and craze him with affright,

  Leave him fainting and forlorn
  Hanging on the moon’s young horn.

  Let the death-bands turn him pale
  Through the venom of our tail.

  Let him learn to love our law
  With the sharpness of our claw.

  Let our King-cat’s fiery flash
  Turn him to a heap of ash.

1st Cat: 

  Punishment enough he’ll find
  In his cross and cranky mind.

  Ha, ha, ha, and ho, ho, ho,
  He’d a sharper penance know,