In County Kerry, in the 18^th century, a musician known as Diggin the Piper was walking home along a dark road late at night when he heard the music of the fairy folk, the Good Neighbours. He hid beneath a rock and listened until one of the fairies spotted him. This music is not for mortals, Diggin was told. But he had already memorised the piece and had no intention of giving it up. So, the fairy told him sternly, “Be warned! The third time you play this piece will be your last…”

Diggin was careful at first, and only played the piece at important events, to great applause. But one night, he got drunk and played it for the third time. Before the last note had faded away, Diggin was gone, leaving behind a shocked audience. The rock under which he hid to steal the fairy music is known as Piper’s rock and stands to this day.

Irish folklore is filled with stories like this. Fairy music was so sweet, so tempting, that pipers and fiddlers couldn’t resist stealing a tune they liked. In turn, if the Good Neighbours liked a mortal’s talent, they would simply steal the musician! Music could lead you astray, draw down the attention of otherworldly folk, and in some cases, lead to strange bargains between the humans and the Sí. (shee)

The Irish considered music to be the greatest of talents, and any talent for singing or playing meant you were a celebrity in your local area. Even the landed aristocracy called on the native Irish to entertain them, and musicians were the one class of Irish peasant that could move between those two worlds. Music was seen as a gift, sometimes from God and sometimes from the Other Folk, the fairies.

But every gift from the fairies came at a price; every bargain had a catch. Being talented as a musician could lead to trouble and temptation. Much as they loved music, the Irish knew the risks. There was sacred music, there was music for dancing, there were laments, and there were rebel songs.

And then there was dangerous music.

This kind of music is primarily associated with the fairy folk. The music of the fairies could be heard in raths and forts, at the fairy trees and under certain rocks. Fairy trees are still scattered across the Irish landscape, and even roads are re-routed to avoid disturbing them. They are often the site of fairy gatherings, including weddings and dances. In many stories, a musical instrument is buried at their roots, adding to the tradition of linking these trees to music.

The fairies are known to be musical and to have the most beautiful tunes, yet they constantly seek out human musicians. While the stories of humans stealing a tune from the fairies are very common, there are equally as many stories where the fairy gift songs to a talented human. Despite being freely given, these usually came with a warning not to play it too often or for the wrong people. Inevitably, the musician would forget and play the tune and then would be carried off to the fairy forts.

Some musicians were said to be blessed by the fairies at birth. One example is the four brothers from Mayo who all showed talent as pipers from an early age. This was known in the locality to be a gift from the fairy folk. Indeed, when one of them, Michael, grew too arrogant and refused to play for a passing fairy, she took away his talent.

In other stories, a musician with some talent deliberately enters a bargain with the fairy, in return for increased skill and fame. The great Irish harpist Turlough (tur lock)  O’Carrollan was said to have traded his eyesight for his talent, while others promised to come live with the fairies and play only for them once they reached their goals in the human world. Again, they were often placed under taboos, or Geas (geese), and if they broke the taboo, their talent would disappear. The fairy never gave freely, and there was always some caveat attached to the deal.

The old folk warned the young to be careful at night, to never follow the music or try to join in the fairy dance. In County Louth (loud) a child followed the sound of music and was invited to dance with the fairies. After an hour she decided to return home, only to find that she had grown several inches, and her parents were shocked to see her. In the hour she had spent with the fairies, a few years had passed in the mortal world. In Donegal, a small boy heard music and wandered out to hear it, clutching his little tin cup. He danced with the fairies until they reached the entrance to a fairy fort, but they couldn’t drag him in as long as he clung to the tin cup, and that’s how he was able to return to his parents. Grown adults were led across the fields, into bogs and into messes. Returning home after several days or months, blaming the fairies for your absence, was not always met with either belief or sympathy.

The mischief of the fairies didn’t end there. They were fond of leaving changelings in return for human children, and one way this creature gave itself away was by playing music. Stuck in a human house, the changeling couldn’t resist playing on its flute or pipe when it thought it was alone, and this was often how it was discovered.

There were those who claimed to have had very pleasant encounters with the fairies. One man was invited to a dance by a passing fairy, and he enjoyed himself mightily. However, when they invited him to come again another night, he thought the better of it. Who knew why the Fairies were being nice to him? Another found himself in a house, listening to the best music he had ever heard. He realised it was no mortal gathering but kept quiet and behaved politely, and the fairy let him stay. Again, though, he refused to repeat the experience when invited to return. You couldn’t be sure of the same reception, or they might have some ulterior motive.

But not everyone wanted to resist the lure of the fairy music. Apart from the musicians who sought out a bargain with the fairies, there were those who were so in love with music itself that they couldn’t turn down the chance to learn the “sweetest music on earth.” There was simply no music as good as the fairy tunes, and fiddlers in particular seem prone to running off with the fairies. In one story a young fiddler, much loved in the parish of Moville, often heard the strains of fairy music as they passed by on their dance. One night he stopped mid- note, stood up with “his face all aglow,” and tucking the fiddle under his arm, ran out into the night calling after the Sí (shee) He was last seen climbing a mountain in their wake, calling on them to wait for him.

Even with these stories of danger and temptation, the love of music persisted in Ireland, and so did the belief that musicians are half-touched by the fairies, at least the good ones.

Geraldine Moorkens Byrne is a well-known poet and writer, as well as an educator in Irish Folk Magic Traditions and Ceremony writer; she was a founding editor of the Pagan Poetry Pages. She has facilitated workshops and creative writing groups. Her work has been published in a variety of media from print anthologies to Ezines, including Poems from a Lockdown, and her poem “Where Once Were Warriors “was the title-piece of Asia Geographic Tribes edition. Several poems have been performed as theatre in Ireland, the UK and USA. She was a prizewinner in the Inaugural John Creedon Listowel Writers Festival Competition. Her short story “A Stranger Among Friends,” was a winner in the Cunningham Short Story Competition. She is also the author of a popular series of mystery novels. Her collection of poetry “Dreams of Reality” is available now.
She was the fourth generation of Byrnes to run the famous Charles Byrne Music Shop, in Stephen Street Dublin Ireland. This was a landmark business in the city of Dublin and an integral part of Irish classical and traditional music for 150 years.