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'''Title: Celtic Poets''' '''Author: editor Ian Gillian''' ------------------------------------ I was a listener in the woods, I was a gazer at the stars, I was not blind where secrets wre concerned, I was silent in a wilderness, I was talkative among many, I was mild in the mead-hall, I was stern in battle, I was gentle towards allies, I was a physician of the sick, I was weak towards the feeble, I was strong towards the powerful, I was not parsimonious lest I should be burdensome, I was not arrogant though I was wise, I was not given to vain promises though I was strong, I was not unsafe though I was swift, I did not deride the old though I was young, I was not boastful though I was a good fighter, I would not speak about any one in thier absence, I would not reproach, but I would praise, I would not ask, but I would give. Cormac Mac Cuileannain..... King and Poet of Cashel, AD 836-908 I would often tell you stories about how my life has been, Of the battles I have fought and the wars I could not win. All the roads I've traveled and places I have seen, The questions I have asked and the answers that I will receave. Sometimes I feel I've grown older and the songs I have sung, echo in the distance fading like the setting sun. Seems like I'll always be a soldier of fortune. I would come to you late at night and you'd keep me in your way. If you told me that you loved me then surely I would stay. For no matter where I wander or how I travel on the road. I will always be with you for my heart resides in your home. I feel I must be getting older and all the songs I once sung, echos in the distance like the midnight memory of the sun. I guess I'll always be a soldier of fortune. And I hear on the wind the songs I had once sung, echoes in the distance like the battles I have won. No more will I be a soldier fortune. M.James 1960 - ??? If I were a carpenter, and you were a lady. Would you marry me anyway? Would you have me baby? If a tinker were my trade, would you still find me? Carrying the pots I made - following behind me? Save my love through loneliness - save my love through sorrow. I give you my only-ness, give me your tomorrow. If I worked my hands in the wood, would you still love me? Answer me babe, "yes I would - I'd put you above me." If a miller were my trade, at a mill wheel grinding. Would you miss your color box - your soft shoes shinning. Save my love through loneness - save my love through sorrow. I give you my only-ness - come give me your tomorrow. If I were a carpenter, and you were a lady. Would you marry me anyway? Would you have my baby? Robert Plant 1950-??? I conceal not your fame, o Tuis. Great as an oak among kings, A pigskin is a reward without meanness, And this I claim in return for this poem. A war may come when warriors clash, A war may be averted by a gift, And he who gives without fear, Shall lose nothing. A stormy army and tempestuous sea, Are weapons that no one would oppose, But a pigskin, a reward freely given, Is that which we claim. Small esteem of any spear with Piscar, His enemies are already broken, Piscar has little cause for worry, Since it is others who receave wounds. The yew is the finest tree in the forest, The yew is king without opposition, May the great spear shafts drive on, Through the wounds of those they slay. Brian son of Tuirenn, chieftain of Ben Eadair AD 600 ? Clear light on a slick palm as I mis-deal the day, Slip the night from a shaved pack make a marked card play. Call twilight hours down from a heaven home. High above the highest bidder for the good Lord's throne. In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill. oh, and we'll watch the old gods play by Dun Ringill. We'll wait in stone circles 'til the force comes through. Lines joints in faint discord and the stormwatch brews. A concert of kings as the white sea snaps, at the heels of a soft prayer whispered. In the wee hours I'll meet you down by Dun Ringill. oh, and I'll take you quickly by Dun Ringill. Ian Anderson 1949 - ??? Sad our hearts break for Lir, red eyes searching the world for us, hopeful in seeking shadows in forests, on mountains, seeking forms, in skies and on land. Seeking his lost children torn from his bosom, Now in swan-form swimming, cold in waters of a foamy strange shore. Bleak and cold is our home, Ice wet are our feathers--- No comfort to us. Pain and sickness is our only guide, The pitiless sea is our constant companion, Grief, grief, is our only warmth, In the bleak heartless world which is ours. (The Children of Lir-- author unknown) AD 400 ? I waited patiently for the Lord, He inclined and heard my cry. He brought me up out of the pit, Out of the miry clay. I will sing, sing a new song. How long to sing this song ? He set my feet upon a rock, And made my footsteps firm. Many will see.... Many will see and fear. I will sing, sing a new song, How long to sing this song? Bono of U2 1959-?? Come to our rich and starry caves, Our home amid the ocean waves. Our coral caves are walled around, With richest gems in ocean found. And crystal mirrors, clear and bright, Reflecting all in magic light. [[Category:Poetry and Song]]

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