Notes on pronunciation: Cathbad is pronounced KA fuh
This is one of a number of poems drawn from the Cattle Raid of Cooley, which stands in Irish Mythology in a similar place to the Iliad and the Odyssey in Greek Mythology.
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Once Cathbad
the Druid went walking about
On
a lovely, bright midsummer’s day
When
he passed by good Nes with her ladies about
Enjoying
the sun’s gentle rays
She
said, “My good Druid, a question I’ve got,
If
you’ve time for a bit of chat.”
“As
always, my Queen, all my wisdom is yours.”
So
he found him a seat and he sat.
“This
hour at hand”, asked the Queen from her couch,
“Just
how is it best to be spent?”
The
Druid looked ‘round for the omens at hand
Then
quickly his wisdom he lent.
“For
begetting a King on a Queen,” he did say,
“Is
this hour most fitly employed.”
You
could see by the look on her face that this thought
Was
one that the Queen did enjoy.
“Are
you certain this hour and no other will do?”
Nes
queried the Druid again.
“The
boy you conceive in this short span of time
will
forever be known in this land.”
She
looked down the road, then out ‘cross the field,
Then
over at Emain’s strong walls.
“It
seems you’re the only man here to be found.
Would
you come with me into my hall?”
He
did and they did and a boy was conceived
And
Cathbad was known as his ‘Da.
Three
years and three months he grew in her womb,
The
boy, Conchobar MacNessa.
The
lad, he went off to live with his dad
‘Til
he reached nigh on seven years old.
Then
he found himself king of Ulster the Fair
Through
a plan that his mother made bold
Now
Fergus MacRóich was king at the time
And
Nes surely captured his eye.
Pretty
and proud and a lass of high birth,
This
girl was not coy nor shy.
Agreeable,
she, to a match with the king
But
she had her own price for the deal.
She
wanted her son to be king for a year
That
her son’s honor price would be real.
“I
want my son’s sons to be sons of a king.”
And
the people thought this sounded fair,
“Ah,
Fergus, you’ll still be the real king now
And
you’ll get it all back in a year.”
So
married they were and the boy he was crowned
And
he ruled with his ma at his back.
He’d
steal from one to give to another
‘Til
gifts from him none of them lacked.
When
the year, it was up, then Fergus MacRóich
Was
ready to take back his crown.
The
people bespoke, “Let’s think about this.”
Which
caused cousin Fergus to frown.
The
people decided what Fergus had sold
Should
stay truly sold to the lad
That
Fergus so quickly relented his crown
Was
a thing, for a king, that t’was bad.
So
Conchobar then became truly the king
And
beloved of all of the land.
Ulster
had never a king they loved so
And
life, for him, it was grand.
There’s
many a tale and story can be told
About
Conchobar MacNessa the king
And
truly spoke Cathbad, for still to this day
Bards,
of him, loudly do sing.
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This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose
Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78
Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill
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