The Youth Of Finn MacCool

We were roaming through the Black head
Hungry and tired looking for food
When we saw an old and thin deer
And we dreamt cooked flesh with beer
We held in tight in our hand the spear
Like the mind it fled with it's fear.

Nine warriors were at my side
Everyone incarnation of pride
Together with my two hounds for that day
Still no food we had found
With our usual defiance
The hunt carried on for more preys
Thirsty spears shone.

Warrior and bard poetry
Runs through your heart
Enchant and dazes you
Lower your blade.

On our path we boldly walked forth
When a red braded deer
From the north swiftly stood
Before eager eyes
To attack we all mobilized
But even the hounds stood still at my cry.

"Leave that deer for he should die!"
Baffled eyes turned towards me
All admired my pure ecstasy
With calm I sang my poetry
For it's beauty my will should let be
With my words all hearts were bestowed
Poetry's power I mystically showed.