The dagda at his home
Of brugh na boinne
The hall of the morrigu
And cermaits birthplace within
The prison of the grey
Of macha the hill of dabilla
Where the hound of boann did be
In these halls the sorrow of the dagda!
At one time the dagda made a vat
For his daughter ainge she was proud
She decided to create
Her own out of wood and sticks
Nuadas son gaible found it
And threw it away
A great shadow and curse
Befell the dagda

One day a man of connacht
Did come to see him with his wife
Corrgenn was his name
Aedh had fallen for his wife
That great anger exploded
And he killed aedh in response
Everyone thought the dagda
Would kill him but he did not
He sat with a troubled brow

And thought about his life
He spared his life
But there would have to be a toll
Looking at aedhs body
He knew what must be done
To avenge him and to bring peace
To his home and to his son
And as the morning dawn creeped in
The truth and toll became clear

"Corrgenn take my son and carry him
Upon your back and never let him fall
Find a gravestone the same size fitting
For my son and bury him there. "
Corrgeen spent an age looking for
The stone and the journey was hard
On loch feabhail he finally had found it
And he rested aedhs body there
Corrgenn did lift the stone
Above his head

A glimpse of hope in his eye!
But no sooner had he
Lifted the stone he himself fell
And he died
The dagda, beside himself with grief
Summoned two of his men
To build a rath around his son
And corrgenn's grave

Imheall and garbhan shaped it
And made it so
The hill of aileac was its name
The hill of signs and of stone
Made by tears of blood
The sorrow of the dagda