Celtachor - King Of Tara

Finn went to the High King of great Teamhair, Inside sat Goll a son of Morna, Among the Fianna Brave... Hatred in his eyes, Revenge marked on his mind. Finn grabbed a great horn, And proclaimed Loud and far: "I am Finn! Son Of Cumhal! Son Of Cumhal! He who was a King and friend to you all!! With that the King bade him welcome, And brought him into the great hall, But worry yet still stifled him, A great enemy from afar was to come... A man came alone, from the Tuatha he was, Breathing in flames spat, From his cursed mouth, He would burn up all of Teamhair. Aillen was his name, A Son of the Midhna proud, He played music of the Sidhe, Putting all to sleep. And then he would burn them alive... The King made a call to all his men, To go and fight this threat. Silence fell on that great hall, Till Finn spoke loud and great! "I will fight him on the morrow And rid the land of him." “Take my magic spear!” Proclaimed Fiachra. The day of battle came, The skies were black as sulphur, Aillen came playing with his harp, Fire burst from his mouth, Finn raised his crimson cloak. No damage befell him… protected from his spells... He ran to Slieve Fuad, Finn chasing him at his back. Finn gave chase, Armed with his spear and made a cast. Aillen did fall, His heart pierced by the magic spear. He cut off his head, And returned back to great Teamhair. On the top of a pole it stayed, On their highest wall. The great deed that Finn had done, Would be remembered by one and all. The Fianna raised up Finn, And they celebrated into the night! A new leader and king proclaimed: “It was his right!” King of Tara! Hail! Hail! King of Tara! Hail! Hail! King of Tara! Hail!