Finnola, once my pride and joy
Dark Aedh, of adventures bold
Bright Fiachra, gentle, playful boy
Little Conn, with curls of gold.
The Crafty-Ones met to choose their Chieftain.
Five there were in the running…
Red-Bove, Angus-Ever-Young, Ilbrec of Assaroe,
Lir of Finnaha and Midyir Bright-Mane.
Red-Bove won it at Lir’s displeasure.
Lir left the meet in anger without acknowledgment.
The Crafty-Folk swore retribution on him for this insult
but Red-Bove would have none of it:
“I am yet your king whether or not Lir chooses to recognise it.”
So things stood for a long while until Lir’s wife died after a three day travail.
Heart-rent was Lir, with the loss, and the ill-news spread across Erin
like wild-fire with many-a-soul suspecting witchery.
Red-Bove called the Crafty-Folk to meet.
“In the wake of this passing my friendship to Lir would be of service
for I foster in my house-hold Aillel-of-Aran’s three daughters.
Eve, Eva and Alva are the cleverest and prettiest maidens in Erin.”
The Crafty-Ones agreed the wisdom of this saying.
Messengers were sent to Lir at Finnaha…
to be continued…
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