’Potatoes that were softer than the fog,
    And with neither butter nor meat,
    And milk that was sourer than apples in harvest—­
    That’s what Raftery got from Burke of Kilfinn.’

’And Mr. Burke begged him to rhyme no more, but to come back, and he would be well taken care of.’  I am told of another house he abused and that is now deserted:  ’Frenchforth of the soot, that was wedded to the smoke, that is all that remains of the property....  There were some of them on mules, and some of them unruly, and the biggest of them were smaller than asses, and the master cracking them with a stick;’ ’but he went no further than that, because he remembered the good treatment used to be there in former times, and he wouldn’t have said that much if it wasn’t for the servants that vexed him.’  A satire, that is remembered in Aran, was made with the better intention of helping a barefooted girl, who had been kept waiting a long time for a pair of shoes she had ordered.  Raftery came, and sat down before the shoemaker’s house, and began:—­

’A young little girl without sense, the ground tearing her feet, is not satisfied yet by the lying Peter Glynn.  Peter Glynn, the liar, in his little house by the side of the road, is without the strength in his arms to slip together a pair of brogues.’

’And, before he had finished the lines, Peter Glynn ran out and called to him to stop, and he set at work on the shoes then and there.’  He even ventured to poke a little satire at a priest sometimes.  ’He went into the chapel at Kilchreest one time, and there was some cabbage after being stolen from a garden, and the priest was speaking about it.  Raftery was at the bottom of the chapel, and at last he called out in verse:—­“What a lot of talk about cabbage!  If there was meat with it, it would feed the whole parish!” The priest didn’t mind, but afterwards he came down, and said:  “Where is the cabbage man?” and asked him to make some more verses about it; but whether he did or not I don’t know.’  And another time, I am told:  ’A priest wanted to teach him the rite of lay baptism; for there were scattered houses a priest might take a long time getting to, away from the roads, and certain persons were authorized to give the rite.  So the priest put his hat in Raftery’s hand, and told him the words to say; but it is what he said:  “I baptize you without either foot or hand, without salt or tow, beer or drink.  Your father was a ram and your mother was a sheep, and your like never came to be baptized before.”  He was put under a curse, too, one time by a priest, and he made a song about him; but he said he put his frock out of the bargain, and it was only the priest’s own body he would speak about.  And the priest let him alone after that.’  And an old basket-maker, who had told me some of these things, said at the end:  ’That is why the poets had to be banished before in the time of St. Columcill.  Sure no one could stand the satire of them.’