He went on the road again, till he came to the brink of the sea; there he saw a crane standing on one foot on the shore.
"The blessing of God be with you, Owen O'Mulready," says the crane.
"The blessing of God and Mary be with you, Mrs. Crane," says Owen. "Everybody knows me, and I don't know any one."
Owen told her his business, and that he didn't know how he'd get over the water.
"Leave your two feet on my two wings, and sit on my back, and I'll take you to the other side," says the crane.
"What would I do if tiredness should come on you before we got over?" says Owen.
"Don't be afraid, I won't be tired or wearied till I fly over."
Then Owen went on the back of the crane, and she arose over the sea and went forward, but she hadn't flown more than half-way, when she cried out:
"That you may be seven times worse this day twelvemonths, you rogue of a crane," says Owen; "I can't get off you now, so don't ask me."
"I don't care," replied the crane, "if you'll rise off me a while till I'll take a rest."
With that they saw threshers over their heads, and Owen shouted:
"Och! thresher, thresher, leave down your flail at me, that I may give the crane a rest!"
The thresher left down the flail, but when Owen took a hold with his two hands, the crane went from him laughing and mocking.
"My share of misfortunes go with you!" said Owen, "It's you've left me in a fix hanging between the heavens and the water in the middle of the great sea."
It wasn't long till the thresher shouted to him to leave go the flail.
"I won't let it go," said Owen; "shan't I be drowned?"
"If you don't let it go, I'll cut the whang."
"I don't care," says Owen; "I have the flail"; and with that he looked away from him, and what should he see but a boat a long way off.
"O sailor dear, sailor, come, come; perhaps you'll take my lot of bones," said Owen.
"Fling down one of your shoes, till we see the way it falls," says the captain.
Owen shook one foot, and down fell the shoe.
"Uill, uill, puil, uil liu--who is killing me?" came a scream from Margaret in the bed. "Where are you, Owen?"
"I didn't know whether 'twas you were in it, Margaret."
"Indeed, then it is," says she, "who else would it be?"
She got up and lit the candle. She found Owen half-way up the chimney, climbing by the hands on the crook, and he black with soot! He had one shoe on, but the point of the other struck Margaret, and 'twas that which awoke her.