What two heads are those to the east, Great Connal of the famous deeds; Alike the colour of their hair, Than hero’s blood more red their cheeks?
Cullin the handsome, and Cunlad brave, Two who e’er triumphed in their wrath; Evir, their heads are to the east, I left their bodies streaming red.
What are those six hideous heads I see in front facing the north; Blue in the face, their hair so black, From which thou turn’st thy look, brave Connal?
These are six of Cuchullin’s foes, Calliden’s sons, who triumphed oft; These are now the senseless six Who all, full armed, fell by my hand.
Great Connal, father to a king, What is that head, noblest of all; How bushy the golden yellow locks, Covering it with so much grace?
The head of M’Finn, M’Ross the red, The son of Cruith, slain by my stroke; Evir, he was king, chief of them all, In Leinster of the spotted swords.
Great Connal, now please change thy tale, Tell us the number slain by thine arm, Of all the noble famous men, In vengeance for the head of Con?
Ten and seven score hundred men, I tell the truth, the number is, That fell by me, all back o’er back, Fruit of my bravery and power.
Connal, tell how the women feel In Innisfail, the Cu being dead; Do they sadly, sorely mourn, Now that like me themselves have grief?
O Evir, what am I to do, Now that my Cu is ta’en away; My foster-son of fairest form, Now that he’s left me desolate?