The bird goes on to tell Fintan about the various battles it had seen in Ireland. As for the battle of Moytura in Cong:
"It was there thy twelve sons fell; to see them, awsome was the blow, and I gnawed off each fresh body[21] either a hand or one foot or one eye."
The old crow it was who carried off the hand of Nuadh covered with rings, which had been lopped off in the slaughter, and which was replaced later on by a silver hand, whence the King of the Tuatha De Danann received the cognomen of Nuadh of the silver hand, but his real hand was the plaything of the crows' young for seven years. He recounts all the eyes he had picked out of heroes' heads after famous fights. It was he too who perched upon Cuchulainn's shoulder, when, dying, he had bound himself to the standing stone,[22] but though his life had almost departed from him the hero pierced him with his cletin curad or hero's little quill. "I came above the hero as his countenance was darkening in death to eat his eyes, it was not an errand of luck, I stoop my head. He feels me on his face, he raises up his weakening hand, he puts his hero's little quill through my body at the first effort (?) I take a troubled flight to Innis Geidh across the valleyed sea and draw forth from myself, rough the task, the hard tough shaft of the dartlet. The head remains in my body. It tortured my heart sorely: sound I am not since that day, and I conceal it not since I am old. It was I who slew, great the tidings, the solitary crane that was in Moy Leana and the eagle of Druim Breac, who fell by me at the famous ford.
It was I who slew, pleasant the supper, the solitary crane of blue Innis Géidh. It was I who chewed beneath my comb the two full-fat birds of Leithin. It was I who slew, royal the rout, the slender Blackfoot of Slieve Fuaid; the Blackbird of Drum Seghsa of the streams died in the talons of my daughter."
It is plain then that this ancient poem, found in Egerton 1782, and in the Book of Fermoy, actually presupposes our story, and has a close connection with it.
THE STORY.
A gentle, noble, renowned patron there was of a time in the land of Ireland, whose exact name was Ciaran of Cluan.[23] A good faith had he in the mighty Lord.