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- There was once a man living in Massbrook. He had no mean of living except selling poteen [?]. He used to go back to Westport selling it with his pony. One day he went to Westport. He brought two jars of poteen with him. He left his pony outside a man’s house and went in. The pony knocked the jars and spilled the poteen. Then the pony drank until he was drunk and then he fell down asleep. When the man came out he saw the pony and thought he was dead. Then he skinned the pony and came home. After a while the pony came home without his skin. The man covered the pony with keep skins. A great fleece of wool(continues on next page)Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.