Translation. Anglicisation. Bastardisation. These are just some of the terms used to denote the demise of Ireland’s traditional place names, which remains a point of bitter lament for some traditionalists.

It may look like we’ve got our maps mixed up with something out of Game of Thrones, but the truth is there’s a lot more behind the names of our towns, villages and drumlins than we read on road signs.

It’s a debate that goes back to Ireland’s first ever Ordnance Survey map, commissioned in the 19th century (and likely further back, but we’ll get to that later). This was a pioneering exercise to standardise Irish place names in a way that had never been done before, and although the end result was generally acclaimed as a marvellous feat endeavour, it wasn’t without its blemishes.

According to Pádraig Ó Cearbhaill, who is acting chief place names officer with the Placenames Branch, surveyors who contributed to the British-funded survey consulted far and wide with native Irish speakers, priests of all denominations and local historians to ascertain the name traditionally associated with their locality.

People such as John O’Donovan, who was a respected Gaeilgeoir, went as far as to dig into the folklore and rationale that contributed to nomenclature but, in the end, he and his colleagues mainly opted to go for the rather imprecise method of writing names in “English” on the basis of how they sounded in Irish, instead of attempting to convey what they actually meant.

And so Baile (town) turned to Bally, Cill (church) turned to Kil and Dún (fort) turned to Dun, along with a series of less transparent substitutions.

The resulting map proved incredibly influential over the ensuing years. But to say that it alone sounded the death knell for Gaelic names is a simplistic appraisal of the complex turn of events that left us shorn of an integral aspect of our heritage.

Ó Cearbhaill maintains that, in a roundabout way, the Ordnance Survey map of 1846 actually preserved many of the Irish names in a somewhat opaque manner as the language receded, and says the process of “anglicisation” was realistically set in train in the preceding centuries.

But, as academic Dónall Mac Giolla Easpaig puts it, that map left a “fog of unintelligibility” regarding the origin of our place names; a fog that Ó Cearbhaill and his coworkers on the website logainm.ie are still trying to disperse.

Here is a selection of names to help to illustrate the process.

ARDEE, CO LOUTH

Baile Átha Fhirdhia; Town of Ferdia’s Ford

A name that ripples through the annals of Irish history. The town can trace its moniker back to that legendary school tale of the Táin Bó Cúailnge, the Cattle Raid of Cooley, which pitted hero Cúchulainn and his fellow warriors of Ulster against the forces of queen Maedhbh of Connacht. The story goes that Cúchulainn was forced to do battle with his good friend Ferdia by the banks of a nearby river. After four days, a fatal strike from his opponent’s magic spear put paid to Ferdia’s challenge, but his name would be immortalised by locals nonetheless.

OXMANTOWN, DUBLIN 7

Baile Lochlannach; Town of the Scandinavians

Long ago the Vikings used to rule the roost in Dublin, or Dubh Linn (Blackpool) as it was then called. However, as the Normans began arriving from northern France in greater numbers, the original invaders’ fortunes started to take a turn for the worse, and their dwindling community was duly banished beyond the walls of the nascent city. And so they settled upon a spot by the banks of the Liffey that became known for its inhabitants – Ostmen or Eastmen (denoting their origins to the east of Ireland), a constituent of the modern Oxmantown (Ostementown).

MULLINGAR, CO WESTMEATH

An Muileann gCearr; the Left-Handed Mill

We’re blessed with a smattering of fantastical and imaginative tales that go hand in hand with the history of our townlands, and this is among the best of them. The story goes that local miracle man St Colman of Lynn wanted some barley ground, but the miller refused to co-operate because he was already grinding wheat for the local king. Engineering wasn’t quite as advanced in the seventh century as it is now, as you can imagine, so it was met with considerable disbelief when he managed to reverse the rotation of the mill to grind both the orders, thereby giving the town its name.

KILLINEY, CO DUBLIN

Cill Iníon Léinín; Church of the Daughters of Léinín

Another one with a religious feel to it. This is a prime example of the transfer of Cill (meaning church) to Kil. The church referred to was said to date back to the sixth century, and was purportedly dedicated to the six virgin daughters of the local patron saint, Lenin.

KANTURK, CO CORK

Ceann Toirc; Boar’s Head

Wild Irish boar – just one of a litany of animals that can trace its demise to humanity’s ravenous appetites – used to roam the forests and fields of this land with gay abandon until the hunters had their say.

It all came to a head when, as local knowledge has it, the last wild boar in Ireland was slain at Kanturk sometime during the 17th century. That said, the townspeople can’t be accused of denying their heritage, as they still celebrate the Wild Boar Festival every year.

LIMAVADY, CO DERRY

Léim an Mhadaidh; Leap of the Dog

The north Derry town’s title is in deference to the memory of one particularly athletic, but sadly unnamed, dog. It was formerly a stronghold of the O’Kane (Uí Catháin) clan, who built a castle on the east bank of the river Roe 2.5km south of modern Limavady. As trouble brewed one day, the courageous canine set off with a message to forewarn the local chieftain and managed to jump the Roe’s steep gorge before arriving safely home.

BALLYMENA, CO ANTRIM

An Baile Meánach; the Middle Townland

As you may well have gathered by now, the early Gaels were resolutely pragmatic in their naming methods.

As such, Ballymena was exactly as the literal translation suggests: a townland slap-bang in the middle of the Co Antrim parish of Skerry. Sadly for its inhabitants, Ballymena is nothing particularly special, as archaic references to “middle towns” are littered throughout the province: there are five townlands in Ulster called Ballymenagh, according to placenames.ni.org, and separately a Ballymena Little elsewhere in Antrim.

DEVILSMOTHER, CO MAYO

Magairlí an Deamhain; the Demon’s Testicles

Cue the giggles. Without meaning to sound salacious, the original Irish name of this hilly peak in Mayo’s Partry mountains did indeed seemingly refer to Beelzebub’s nether regions.

The modern-day geographical annotation may have been a compromise on behalf of puritanical blushing Brits who didn’t appreciate the original reference, or it may simply have been a poor translation, no one really knows.

Given the topography of the area, Magairlí an Deamhain likely reflects some feature of the mountain’s landscape, which was a common methodology used by our ancestors when applying place names.

MUFF, CO DONEGAL

An Magh; the Plain

As opposed to our previous example, revisionist mapmen unwittingly transformed a rather innocuous name into something that has, over the course of time, taken on a whole new meaning that has seen it included on lists of “unfortunately named towns” the world over.

It’s just one of a number of awful “translations” that have gone on to traumatise helpless residents, including Hackballscross in Co Louth, which, based on its Gaelic title, Crois an Mhaoir”, probably should have been called Crossroads of the Steward.

CARLINGFORD, CO LOUTH

Kerlingfjorðr; Narrow Sea Inlet of the Hag

A notable exception to other examples listed above, Carlingford’s ancient title actually pays homage to Viking invaders, who occupied the area from around the ninth century.

Providing an accurate contemporary translation of Old Norse is an unenviable task, but multiple variants all allude to the adjacent sound (fjord, as it would have been in Scandinavia, translating to the modern-day ford) and surrounding hills (Hag-shaped Rock, as appears in other versions). Places that share a similar hybrid identity include Waterford (Vedrarfjordr) and neighbouring Wexford (Veisafjrðr).