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