Sorrow Of The Dagda

The dagda at his home

Of brugh na boinne

The hall of the morrigu

And cermaits birthplace within

The prison of the grey

Of macha the hill of dabilla

Where the hound of boann did be.

In these halls the sorrow of the dagda!

At one time the dagda made a vat,

For his daughter ainge she was proud,

She decided to create

Her own out of wood and sticks.

Nuadas son gaible found it

And threw it away.

A great shadow and curse

Befell the dagda.

One day a man of connacht

Did come to see him with his wife.

Corrgenn was his name,

Aedh had fallen for his wife.

That great anger exploded

And he killed aedh in response.

Everyone thought the dagda

Would kill him but he did not,

He sat with a troubled brow

And thought about his life.

He spared his life

But there would have to be a toll.

Looking at aedhs body,

He knew what must be done,

To avenge him and to bring peace

To his home and to his son,

And as the morning dawn creeped in

The truth and toll became clear

"Corrgenn take my son and carry him

Upon your back and never let him fall,

Find a gravestone the same size fitting

For my son and bury him there."

Corrgeen spent an age looking for

The stone and the journey was hard,

On loch feabhail he finally had found it

And he rested aedhs body there.

Corrgenn did lift the stone

Above his head

A glimpse of hope in his eye!

But no sooner had he

Lifted the stone he himself fell,

And he died.

The dagda, beside himself with grief

Summoned two of his men

To build a rath around his son

And corrgenn's grave

Imheall and garbhan shaped it

And made it so

The hill of aileac was its name

The hill of signs and of stone

Made by tears of blood.

The sorrow of the dagda.