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There lived a man at Wexford long ago and he went for poteen to Tiranair. He had a horse and cleeves and the potion was in the sleeves and when he was coming home the cleeves turned over and the poteen got spilled. He ran to house for a rope to tie the cleeves. While he was away the horse drank the poteen that was on the ground and when the man came back the horse was staggering all over the road and the man had a job to keep him from falling. At length the horse fell down and the man thought that he was dead. He never thought that the horse might have drank the poteen and he sent for a man to skin him and the man came and skinned him. The horse had a habit of coming to the house and knocking at the door every night. The man went to bed the night after skinning the horse and after awhile he heard a knock at the door and the wife said that if the poor horse was alive she would surely say that it was his knock. The knocking continued and at last the man got up and opened the door and(continues on next page)Transcribed by a member of our volunteer transcription project.