There in the weekly paper stood the advertisement, bold as brass. "We shall accept a limited number of strong, healthy cats," it said, "at 5 shillings each at my home, Bailieborough, on Monday next between 12 and 1."
It was signed with the good Irish name McNally, but the spinsters in the border town of Carrickmacross were not to be hoodwinked. Up & down the border they sent the rumor flying: "'tis the British want our cats. They'll eat them, and they're that hard up for a rag to put on their backs, they'll even skin them." From Carrick to Ballyshannon...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
