Once, there was a Doctor named McAdoo
in the habit of staying many days
at the Glebe House, Rectory, Killaloo.
Upon hearing of some treasures concealed;
he mustered all the Rector's sturdy men
labourers; together out in the fields
Provided with sledges, crowbars, and adzes;
went to McAvraghan's farm at Slaghmanus:
the Giant's grave, to the ground, to be razed.
Removing the topstone; they succeeded;
then commenced to the standing columns
obstructing their progress, as they proceeded.
Digging up where the money was concealed;
they made a great hole from the old Giant's grave.
Alas, when the cairn was destroyed, it revealed:
Chisels, compasses, and great mounds of dirts;
hammers, spurs, an old sword with no stave:
but nought a single brooch for their skirt's.
So, the Doctor and Mustered men went home.
Then McAvraghan filled up the empty pit,
he covered the grave, and left it a loam.
The incident in question here happened in the year 1816. The name of the Doctor was listed as [Blank] so I took out my 'ol "Poetic License" and gave him the name of "McAdoo" to work with the rhyme scheme, (The actual name may have been Spencer but when I used that I was very very tempted to slip into a Naughty Limerick and that is not the way I wanted to go...)
The literal translation for "Slaghmanus" a townland in 19th Century Northern Ireland is: The Grave of "Manus".
My Ancestor, Alexander Gilmour was born born in or about 1800 or 1802. If by this time he was an Apprenticed Cooper, to as I suspect, Mr. McLaughlin or MGonikle (I am not sure yet which was the name of his "Master") at the Glebe House, he would have been 14 to 16 years of age. Just the right age and frame of mindset to go "Treasure Hunting". (O.K., maybe Grave Robbing is more correct here....)
So anyway, My Fathers, Mothers, Fathers, Uncle: James Gilmour of the Gilmour family letters, from the time period 1860-1862, that got me set out on this track in the first place, is always talking about gathering "Sacred Relics" from the "Sacred soil of Va" in his letters to his brother Robert Gilmour. Or, promising to send things like a "chip of the door where John Brown was imprisoned" or "ruins from the old Carpenters shop" (at Harpers Ferry) home to his friend "Mr Cummins" So, imagine my finding this little tidbit in the Lower Cumber Ordnance Survey Memoir.... A "Chip" off the 'ol Block perhaps? ;)