Villain or Hero
William Crotty, Highwayman
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| Photo: Rathgormack Homepage |
William Crotty, villain, hero, legend, highwayman, rapparee it depends on what side of the fence you sit. William Crotty led a gang of highwaymen robbing from the rich to give to the poor. He won the hearts of Co. Waterford’s people with his generosity, the Robin Hood of the Comeragh Mountians.
To the upper classes he robbed, William Crotty was
an outlaw, a renegade. To the British army he was a villain and a blood thirsty
murderer, who said of him, “the devil wouldn’t pick his bones.”
Crotty’s hideout was said to be in the craggy pinnacle over
looking the lake. To reach the hideout a rope had to be thrown over the cliff.
Knowing the crags and caves of the Comeragh Mountains, Crotty led his pursuers a
merry dance. He threw the Redcoats off his trail with a number of tricks,
shoeing his horse backwards being one of them.
The British frustrated with his wiliness put a large
bounty on his head and resorted to offering bribes to gain information of the location of his hideout. According to the legend, in February 1742, Crotty’s long time friend
and companion, David Norris pulled a Judas and accepted
the bribe money. Norris met Crotty at the cave. He waited until Crotty fell asleep
and wet Crotty’s gunpowder and stole his dagger. The British arrested Crotty on
February 16, 1742.
In March 1742, Crotty was tried and found guilty. He was hung
and quartered. His decapitated head was spiked and fixed over the gateway of the
jail as a warning.
And yet legend lives on. Crotty’s buried treasure was never found. It
is said that he hid it under a rock in the mountains. To this day, local people
still speculate on the whereabouts of Crotty’s hidden treasure.
Crotty’s wife composed a “Caoine” (mournful song) at his
wake. After Crotty’s execution, his wife, hunted by the British threw herself
and her child off the top of Crotty’s cliff.
Caoine For William Crotty
William Crotty I often told you
That David Norris would come 'round you.
In your bed where you lay sleeping,
And leave me here in sorrow weeping.
Ochone, ochone, ochone, oh.
He wet your powder, he stole your arms,
And left you helpless in the midst of alarms.
My bitter curse on him and his,
That brought you to and end like this.
Ochone, ochone, ochone, oh.
Oh the judge but he was cruel,
Refusing a long day to my jewel.
Sure I thought that would be maybe
See the face of your poor baby.
But tempers gold and traitors greedy,
Have left the poor and lowly needy.
'Twas you that heard the widow sighing,
'Twas you that heard the orphan crying.
Strong brave and true and kind to women,
Yet fierce and dread to Saxon foeman.
As thou tonight in gaol you're sleeping,
And oh I'm left in sorrow weeping
Ochone, ochone, ochone, oh.
O'er Coumshingaun the dark clouds gather,
You'll sleep no more among the heather.
Through the Comeraghs hills the night winds are sighing,
Where oft you sent the Redcoats flying
Ochone, ochone, ochone, oh.
Ahearn's gold bought Norris over,
That night the Redcoats round your cover.
May heaven's vengeance o'er them gather,
My baby ne'er shall see its father
Ochone, ochone, ochone, oh.
Anon.
