At every door we came to.
Daire.
You’d better drink,
For old men light upon their youth again
In the brown ale. When I have drunk enough,
I am like Cuchullain as one pea another,
And live like a bird’s flight from tree to tree.
Concobar.
We’ll to our chairs for we have much to talk of,
And we have Ullad and Muirthemne, and here