Upon that hilltop he does sleep
His spirit on all below does keep
Watchful eye on cattle men and sheep
Where the Black Pig its Dyke deep ploughed.
From there in the dark and distant past,
Cheese as assassins weapon at Maeve he cast
Slew here, avenged his mothers death, the legend does last
Where worship of old gods was not allowed.
This valley in its time with blood ran red,
Some say it would Colmcille said
– More state that was other places instead –
As I walk among a crowd…
A crowd of folk who are no longer here,
Cannot be seen, do not appear,
I know not they’re there, I feel no fear
Of these walking spirits unbowed.