Lugh Poem by Charlotte Peters Rock

Lugh

Raven and spear and the longhanded Lugh
like Odin equipped into fear
A fightin of Balor in search of the truth
Magician of sling and of spear

A little stone ball entered Balor's droop eye
defeatin Formorii tribes
My Kingdom of Tuatha de Danaan close by
recorded by legend and scribes

In cattleraid country I rescued my son
Cuchullan of Dechtire of Dreams
Whose fifty great women were birds when I'd done
And Dechtire the Bird of my Schemes

My son was accepted in Ulster's best house
The whelp of a Chieftain - the hound
In Cullan's main cattleraid - tired as the cows -
he lived when I gave him the ground

Long years since I died - my body was gone -
I came in a mist and a maze
to the King of All Ireland victorious Conn
and said he would live out his days

and kinsmen of his would rule on in his stead
A dynasty made from his stock
Secure on the Great Throne of Ireland they'd bed
each woman who pleased from the flock

Much later the Tuatha de Danaan were lost
They fled under hillock and mound
where Dagda The Father of Gods to our cost
changed all who still lay under gound

And I - from The Sun God - was shrivelled to stoop
And all of my people wore green
We come back as leprechauns - single and troop
Lughansa records where we've been

And I am the King of The Faeries they say
The tiny green Imps of the Land
We rule this great island of Ireland today
A bright and malicious great band

When leprechauns call you will always obey
We'll snip off your beard and your toes
Or sometimes be gentle and lead you astray
Remember we'll always be foes

For we are the Little Ones - stooping and green
The imps who lead goodness astray
Pretend you've not heard us Deny what you've seen
Shut your eyes and get off on your way

Charlotte Peters Rock