O blade that yon brave
Low laid in the grave,
Ye gladdened the Fians
But grief to Conn gave.

Stone-hearted and strong,
Lone-hearted with long,
Dark brooding, he sought to
Avenge his deep wrong.

Fair Son of The Red,
Care none thou art dead?--
Old Goll of Clan Morna
Will mourn thou hast bled.

O where shall be found
To share with thee round
The halls of Valhalla
Thy glory renowned?

O true as the blade
That slew thee, and made
My fear and thine anger
For ever to fade--

Ah! when upon earth
Again will have birth
A son of such honour
And bravery and worth?