Will you give to me the taste o’ land the gander will fly round?”
“In troth I will, and welcome,” said the king, “give what you ask;”
The saint bid him bring out the bird, and he’d begin the task;
The king went into the palace to fetch him out the bird,
Though he’d not the least intention of sticking to his word.
Saint Kevin took the gander from the arms of the king,
He first began to tweak his beak, and then to pull his wing,
He hooshed him up into the air—he flew thirty miles around;
Said the saint, “I’ll thank your majesty for that little bit o’ ground.”
The king, to raise a ruction next, he called the saint a witch,