Celtachor - Bres

During the fray of battle,
Nuada did lose his arm,
Cut off by the mighty Sreng.
For the law of the Tuatha,
That no man would be king
Armless and beaten lost to his kin.
The kingship now left for another to rise.
The Sun blasts light
Over mountains and skies,
Banners in the distance,
The High Men gather,
A legacy for a new king.
Spears to the sky, the Lia Fail screams
New king arise, lead and guide!

The Chosen of the land,
Bres was his name,
He lacked wisdom and knowledge,
His rule brought shame.
The Fomorians put a burden on his people,
By the leadership of the tyrant.
Their army was vast and feared by many,
The Tuatha stood defiant.
Taxes did bestow them,
Bres failed them as a king.

A debt on their cattle,
How did this fate begin? Hated by the Tuatha,
His halls empty and cold.
No singers, dancers or music,
No tales would be told.
At a point during his rule,
Cridenbel was met
An old wretch of a man
And this is how this tale began.

Cridenbel did steal from
The Dagda's plate,
Three pieces was the price,
Weak and starving
The Dagda suffered the worst.
But his son he did see,
A plan was made to feed
The old man gold,
Three pieces was the price.
The deed was done, the old man died.
Three pieces took his life.
Bres gave orders for the Dagda,
He went to the king,
Cridenbel was opened.
Gold lay within! Truth rings!
Bres forever would have no good luck,
Only failure, only Shame.
Forever, forever!