"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."
"What are you doing here?"
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:
"Owen O'Mulready get off me; I'm tired."
"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.
