Cuchulain is here
The Hound of Ulster
Armed with a righteous fury
And Gáe Bulg, the lightning spear
Friends and foes alike
Witness the fearsome transformations
When his ríastrad is unleashed
Every one flees the field
Not out of cowardice but true fear
For the wrath of Cuchulain
Turns his being black
A fog of anger rises
As he moves to the attack
But more than woe to his foes
Even friends fear him
For when he is enraged
His wrath makes him blind
Wading into the fray
Time after time
Tragedies befell him
In all his glories
He felt the throes
Of horror and sorrow
Of the wages of steel
And he died broken
In spirit, in mind and bone
By treachery and vengeance
For a warrior of such renown
Could never retire upon a throne
