I have the words. They are all upon the Ogham.
‘Chief Poet,’ 'Ireland,’ ‘Townsman,’ ‘Grazing land.’
But what’s their order?
[He keeps muttering over his speech during what follows.
first cripple. The King were rightly served
If Seanchan drove his good luck away.
What’s there about a king, that’s in the world
From birth to burial like another man,
That he should change old customs, that were in it
As long as ever the world has been a world?
second cripple. If I were king I would not meddle with him,
For there is something queer about a poet.
I knew of one that would be making rhyme
Under a thorn at crossing of three roads.
He was as ragged as ourselves, and yet
He was no sooner dead than every thorn tree
From Inchy to Kiltartan withered away.
first cripple. The King is but a fool!
mayor. I am getting ready.
first cripple. A poet has power from beyond the world,
That he may set our thoughts upon old times,
And lucky queens and little holy fish
That rise up every seventh year——
mayor. Hush! hush!
