Irish tale Stories

The start of a fine summer’s morning found a pretty young woman strolling along the winding path through the hills toward the valley below. She sang to keep herself company with just the occasional spattering of sheep grazing in the tall grasses. Occasionally, one would look up at the sound of her voice. Maybe one day, I’ll have sheep, she hoped, glancing into her empty pot. The sun hung high in the sky by the time she re...