Listoonvana, in North Clare, on the edge of the Burren, holds an annual Matchmaking festival, where elderly farmers come in looking for wives - all good fun nowadays, but at one time, an essential part of rural life here.
One elderly farmer used to come in regularly on his ass and cart for supplies - he lived in a particularly isolated spot along one of the 'Green (undeveloped) roads
On morning, he rode to the town to pick up his necessities, forgetting it was 'Matchmaking day'
He did all his shopping, loaded it up onto the cart, and, as an afterthought, he stopped to 'make a match' with a 'young one' who was standing at the side of the road 'looking for a man'.
They quickly made their bargain and he sits her up on the back of the cart among the flour and potatoes and all the other groceries.
Eventually, they turn off the main road and onto the'Green' road up to his farm.
They hadn't gone half a mile when the poor animal stumbles.
"That's one", says the farmer.
Another mile and the ass stumbles again.
"That's two", he says.
A few miles later the poor beats stumbles again.
That's three" he says, and turning around, he takes an ash plant (club), he walks around to te front of the animal and strikes it a might blow between the eyes, killing it stone dead.
Well - the young one leaps off the cart and lets fly with a mouthful of verbal abuse;
"What did you do that for - the poor animal didn't deserve that - you loaded the cart up far too heavy for a beast that old to manage, and anyway, what are we going to do now - it's getting dark and it looks like its coming on to rain and there's no sign of a house in sight........"
"That's one".
Jim Carroll