In the west of Ireland, near the river Cappagh and at the foot of the gloomy Galtee mountains, there once was a small village by name of Cahir which was home for a hundred or so hardworking farmers and craftsmen and their families. And nestled in the forest some distance from this village there stood a small one room cottage where lived one of these craftsmen, a young man, who was a hunchback.

     Now the hump on this man's back was so large that it looked as if he carried a heavy sack of fruits or vegetables upon his shoulders underneath his clothing. He was forever bent over with his face toward the ground, so that from a distance he looked as if he had no head at all.

     But despite this burden, this man's life was one of great wonder, great knowledge and great happiness. He lived in silence in the forest, and over the years he had become extraordinarily sensitive and attentive to the world around him. Rarely did a moment pass in the day that he was not whistling a tune or singing a song, or listening to the music which he heard in every corner of the forest: the birds' morning chirps, the breeze rustling through the leaves, the creaking and squeaking branches and tree limbs, the gurgling of the brook and the roar of the river, the clapping thunder and dripping raindrops, the night crickets and the gulping bullfrogs. He lived contentedly and made the best of what God had intended for him. His music, the trees, the healing herbs and the animals of the forest were his best friends.

     By trade he was a basketmaker, and the villagers had noticed that he always had one of his baskets perched as a cap on his head, with a sprig of the Lusmore flower in it. And so it was that they named him Lusmore.

     Everyone in the land who knew of Lusmore the hunchback avoided him, not because they were afraid of him. Quite the contrary. His singing and whistling let them know that he was a harmless and kindly fellow. But they avoided him just the same because it made them feel strange and uneasy just to look at that huge, ugly hump on his back, and they felt uncomfortable not knowing what to say to him.

     And so it was that Lusmore spent his life alone in the forest. But he never felt lonely. His cottage was always alive with the activity of the forest creatures. His shelves were always filled with herbs and plants which he had gathered just in case they might be needed someday to heal a sore eye or a broken wing; if there was a lame creature in his part of the forest, Lusmore would care for it, and nurture it, and see that it was brought back to health.

     When Lusmore had made enough baskets to sell in the market, he would make his way into the village of Cahir. This was one time that the villagers were glad to see him, because they knew that his baskets were of an extraordinary quality. Lusmore took great care to gather only the strongest and most colorful reeds, vines and cane for his baskets, and he so skillfully joined them together that his baskets lasted for a very long time; but there was something even more remarkable about these baskets, something which might not be seen but which could be felt. While working on each basket, Lusmore would sing, a different song for each of his creations, and the songs were somehow woven into the baskets; and that is how his baskets carried Lusmore's love and caring to the villagers who would bring them into their homes.

     One day when he was feeling especially good, having just sold his baskets in Cahir, Lusmore decided to take a different path home. He walked for a while northward along the river and through some unfamiliar forests until the path wound its way out of the woods and into an overgrown meadow. Midway across this field Lusmore came upon a place where there had once stood a large castle. He knew that this was Knockgrafton, an ancient place remembered in local legends where strange and unexplainable things had happened. The crumbling, moss-covered stone walls were surrounded by a moat which was still filled with clear water, and next to the moat rose up a small, grassy hill decorated with an assortment of colorful wildflowers. It was quite a magical and beautiful place. Lusmore noticed that the water in the moat was coming from a small spring, about half way up the hill, and he heard the gurgling brook's song as it sang its way down into the moat. He climbed to the clear pool of water, set down his cane, slowly kneeled down for a long drink, then settled his weary body amongst the wildflowers for an afternoon nap.

     Within a very short time Lusmore was drifting, just lightly drifting in that place between sleep and wakefulness, when he began to hear the most beautiful and delicate strains of music coming from within the moat. The sounds were at once easy to hear and yet distant, as if many tiny voices were blending and mingling together to produce a harmony the likes of which even Lusmore had never heard. Slowly Lusmore could make out the tune, which was repeating itself over and over again, always with a slight pause before starting up again. And then even the words of the song became apparent. It was the fairies singing over and over again: Da Luan Da Mort, Da Luan Da Mort, Da Luan Da Mort.

     And as Lusmore listened again and again to the fairies' song, he began thinking to himself that the pause in the music could be filled up with a bit more melody. And being the musician that he was, so sensitive to the music around him, Lusmore began singing right along with the fairies, this time adding his bit to the tune and extra words as well: Da Luan Da Mort, Da Luan Da Mort, Da Luan Da Mort, Augus Da Cadine....

     Well when the fairies heard this, they were delighted! They instantly loved the new part which Lusmore had added to their song, and they came bounding out of the moat and danced all around, even on top of Lusmore's body, exclaiming what a fine musician he was. All tiny creatures they were, with little pointed ears and shoes, and so many of them that he lost track of anything but their swirling motion around him, and as one of them shouted out, "Lusmore, you must come with us, down into the fairy kingdom!", he felt himself dancing with them in a whirlwind of music and motion, gathering speed until suddenly he found himself whisked away by the fairies whim.

     Glorious to behold was the sight that burst upon him as he came down through the moat, twirling round and round, with the lightness of a feather, to the sweetest music that kept perfect time to his motion. It was a huge hall, filled with fairies, all dancing and singing. Lights were flashing, flags flying, and musicians were all around, and everyone paying great attention to Lusmore, and all singing the song with his new part added in. In all his life Lusmore had never been treated with such friendliness and respect.

     But after a time, Lusmore looked over into one corner of the hall where there was a group of fairies, and one of them was pointing at Lusmore. Lusmore suddenly remembered his hump, and he thought the fairies must be looking at his crippled body, and that perhaps this new friendship would soon be over.

     The fairies then came over to Lusmore, and the king of the fairies, the one who had been pointing, looked up at him and said these words:

     "Lusmore! Lusmore!
     Doubt not, nor deplore,
     For the hump which you bore,
     You shall bear it no more:
     Look down on the floor,
     And you shall view it, Lusmore!"

     Suddenly Lusmore felt very light, and looking down he saw a hump on the ground. Slowly he reached behind his neck to see if it could be true. And sure enough the hump was gone! Lusmore stood straight up for the first time in his life, and never had he felt so free, so light and so happy. He immediately began to dance in such a quick and sprightly manner that it seemed that he was the fairies' own dancing master. The music played on and on for hours and hours with everyone dancing and celebrating this wonderful new friendship between Lusmore and the fairies.

     Finally even the fairies began to tire, and one by one they fell asleep there on the floor of the fairy kingdom. Lusmore became quite weary, too. He lay down amongst his new friends, and he was just drifting off to sleep, just in that place between sleep and wakefulness, when suddenly he woke up with a start. It took him a little while to come back to his senses, and looking around, he no longer saw the fairy kingdom, but there was the moat, and the spring and meadow. Birds were singing, and the cows and sheep were grazing lazily nearby, just as they had been when he lay down for his nap.

     Lusmore thought "Agh, it was just a dream!". And after saying his prayers, he slowly reached back behind his neck, just to see................

     .........The story of Lusemore and the Fairies continues on to a very surprising but satisfying ending. We hope you will get the CD, put it on just before bed..... and listen.