Once upon a time the hills of Glan were not so peaceful. It happened in 1949. And the story of the night was given to me a long time ago. The fish is a story told to me in south Fermanagh. I'm in Glan mood this weekend. I'm grateful to have the memories and to be able to see west cavan in the distance, ever as I stand in Arigna with Lough Allen behind me. 

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