The Dragon of Knocknarea

There is a wood on Knocknarea below the lofty grave
of someone who (as people say) will come again: Queen Maeve.
Each votary who climbs the hill puts on her mound a stone,
and when the number's full, she will rise to reclaim her throne.

And in the thicket of that wood where no man dares to stroll
(and, let me tell you, no man should), there, in a hidden hole
a dragon lives beneath a yew, begotten by her spell,
who has been seen by very few, and fewer live to tell.

He guards the cairn with watchful eyes; if anyone comes near,
he lifts his head and slyly spies on those who have no fear,
and if they bring a stone and bow before the Queen of Man,
he will unraise his scaly brow, lie down and sleep again.

But someone who disturbs the peace of her reposing bones
by climbing up the mound he sees or by removing stones
kindles the frenzy of the brute; at once the dragon will
take a deep breath and blow the crude intruder down the hill!

And on the open plateau he'll be pierced by stones of hail,
and, fleeing towards the wood, he'll feel the dragon's mighty tail
smashing his skull against the boles of ancient trees; a sharp
pain is endured by him who rolls down the precipitous scarp!

And if the beast should get irate, there's no one he would spare -
he will arise and desolate the land around his lair,
he'll whip the bay round Knocknarea to make its waters swell;
the two-faced ocean will obey by drowning beach and dell.

Many a man has paid the price for braving pow'rs of yore,
but those of us who met him twice will still come back for more!