The Song of the Heads

This, one of many fine story—poems, illustrates the development of the
ballad. The speaker is supposed to be one of three poet brothers who
had planned to celebrate the victory of Cormac, King of Cashel.

Alas, O King of Kings,
  Righteous lord of might
The saddest of songs we sing,
  Heads in the bitter night.

Come hither, Gegan’s head,
  Together let us sing.
Have you and I not said
  We would make a song for the king?

Last evening our hearts were light,
  We stood in a goodly throng,
We are but three heads tonight,
  Singing a lonely song.

Last night at supper the King
  Pledged us, one by one,
A song of triumph to sing
  Tonight with the battle won.

Alas for the sport and the crowds,
  Though short a night and a day
In less, the King of the clouds
  Can turn the mighty to clay.

Alas for glory and mirth,
  Cormac himself was struck down,
His seed has perished from earth,
  Lost is Cashel’s renown.
Cormac from the hill of state
  Ruled Munster crop and herd,
The poor man and the great
  Obeyed his lightest word.

Vats were raised in a row,
  Woodlands of oak-trees bowed,
Princes were laid low
  And beggars were made proud.

Now, have done with your song,
  A last farewell. It is day,
Back to where we belong
  With the cold stones and the clay.


Source: O'Connor, Frank (tr); Kings, Lords, & Commons: An Anthology
from the Irish; 1962; London; Macmillan & Co; p.39