I see a battle-a blonde man,
With much blood about his belt,
And a hero-halo 'round his head,
Whole hosts he will destroy.
His jaws are settled in a snarl,
He wears a looped, red tunic,
In thousands you will yield your heads,
His form dragonish in the fray.
A giant on the plain i see,
Doing battle with the host,
Holding in each of his two hands
Four gore ladened battle-axes.
I see him hurling against that host,
Two gae-bolga and a spear,
He towers on the battle field,
In breastplate and red cloak.
Across the bladed chariot wheel,
The warped warrior deals death,
That fair from i first beheld,
Melted to a mis-shape.
I see him moving into the fray,
Take warning, watch him well,
Cuchulainn, suailtim's son!
Making dense massacre.
The blood starts from warriors wounds,
-total ruin, at his touch,
Torn corpses, women wailing,
Because of him-the forge hound
