Millman listens:
Finn McCool and the Fianna
Were using up food and drink together
When a giant
Dressed in the skins of a beast
Walked in on them
Without passing a blessing on them.
He had thick
Legs and thick
Hair matted and
Crawling with worms
And he spoke in a fierce voice.
Bald Conan rose up
Always a bold fellow
Without any sense
And when he rose up
He scattered the chessmen
On the grass.
Conan hit the giant
On his jawbone.
Then Finn himself rose and
Himself put the blame on Conan
Because he hit a stranger
Without any reason.
(Michael Jack of Inishbofin
keeps the last shanachie's tongue
preserved in a tin of Three Nuns.)
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