Ceallach ua Maílcorgus

In Connacht, long ago, there lived a poet bold, Ceallach was his name, his stories never old. With words he wove his tales, like magic in the air, But alas, no poems remain, for us all to share. He sang of heroes brave, with hearts so true and strong, Of battles fought and won, of triumph over wrong. His words could paint a scene, so vivid and so clear, But his poems, sadly lost, are nowhere to be near. To hear his melodic voice, their hearts were filled with pride. He captured their desires, their dreams, and their delight, But his poems, lost forever, vanished out of sight. Oh, Ceallach, Chief Poet, your words we long to hear, Though your poems are gone, your spirit still remains, In the hearts of those who cherish your poetic reigns. So let us raise a toast, to the poet of Connacht's land, Though his poems are lost, his legacy will always stand. For in our hearts and minds, his words will never fade, The Chief Poet of Connacht, forever he'll be praised. Random page: FFAR (Fin-Folding Aerial Rocket)