Flannagan mac Ceallach

• Long is the wintry night/with rough gusts of wind/Under pressing grief we encounter it/since the red-speared king of the noble house liveth not.
• It is awful to watch how/the waves heave from the bottom;/To them may be compared all/those who with us lament him.
• A generous, wise, staid man,/of whose renown wide-ruling Teamhair was full/A shielded oak that sheltered/the palace of Milidh's sons.
• Master of the games of the fair-hilled Tailtin/King of Teamhair of an hundred conflicts/Chief of Fodhla the noble/Aedh of Oileach who died too soon.
• Mournful, not forgotten,/the departure from this world;/Stony, not merciful/is the heart of the son of man;
• No greater than small flies/are the kings of Adam's race with him/A yew without any charge of blemish upon him/was he of the long flowing hair.