We Would Not Give Up Our Own

I Was Told In Many Places Of Osgar's Bravery And Goll's Strength And Conan's Bitter Tongue, And The Arguments Of Oisin And Patrick. And I Have Often Been Given The Story Of Oisin's Journey To Tir-nan-og, The Country Of The Young, That Is, As I Am Told, A Fine Place And Everything That Is Good Is In It.

I'll Take No Charity! What I Get I'll Earn By Taking It. I Would Feel No Pleasure It Being Given To Me, Any More Than A Huntsman Would Take Pleasure Being Made A Present Of A Dead Fox, In Place Of Getting A Run Across Country After It.

Our Curses On Them That Boil The Eggs Too Hard! What Use Is An Egg That Is Hard To Any Person On Earth?

If The Past Year Were Offered Me Again, And Choice Of Good And Ill Before Me Set Would I Accept The Pleasure With The Pain Or Dare To Wish That We Had Never Met?

In My Childhood There Was Every Year At My Old Home, Roxborough, Or, As It Is Called In Irish, Cregroostha, A Great Sheep-shearing That Lasted Many Days. On The Last Evening There Was Always A Dance For The Shearers And Their Helpers, And Two Pipers Used To Sit On Chairs Placed On A Corn-bin To Make Music For The Dance.