While the lands were green, beautiful
Hibernia was wrought with fire
Beauty competed with violence
Reckless anger competed with righteous ire
Connacht was fertile, food abundant
And still, they desired the bull found in Ulster
Said to be more fertile than any similar creature
Queen Medb hated Ulster
Even became unable to think rationally
If Ulster was the province in question
And even as these two fought
Residents of other provinces fought as well
Fought against one another
Sons and fathers versus their cousins
Ulster was protected from invasion
By a vigilant warrior Cuchulainn
Descended of the god Lugh
Bearing a powerful spear named Gae Bulg
He bore his father's blood, and a warrior's nature
That caused him to become blind to his rage
Friends and foes alike would be slaughtered
The best warriors of Connacht gathered
And tried to steal the prolific bull
But they stood against CuChulainn
Who when the cause is lost appears upon the horizon
Being brought to the battlefield by a hard driving chariot
He leapt into battle against fine warriors of note
When finished not one was standing but Cuchulainn
“The first warp-spasm seized Cúchulainn, and made him into a monstrous thing, hideous and shapeless, unheard of. His shanks and his joints, every knuckle and angle and organ from head to foot, shook like a tree in the flood or a reed in the stream. His body made a furious twist inside his skin, so that his feet and shins and knees switched to the rear and his heels and calves switched to the front. The balled sinews of his calves switched to the front of his shins, each big knot the size of a warrior’s bunched fist. On his head the temple-sinews stretched to the nape of his neck, each mighty, immense, measureless knob as big as the head of a month-old child. His face and features became a red bowl: he sucked one eye so deep into his head that a wild crane couldn’t probe it onto his cheek out of the depths of his skull; the other eye fell out along his cheek. His mouth weirdly distorted: his cheek peeled back from his jaws until the gullet appeared, his lungs and liver flapped in his mouth and throat, his lower jaw struck the upper a lion-killing blow, and fiery flakes large as a ram’s fleece reached his mouth from his throat.”
― Gaelic
