Madlin, sing to me, oh happy trickle. Of watery song and ocean’s ripple. From Johnduffs Wood
through Molaise’s haunt to Dinn Righ and Barrow’s jaunt. Just a moment, I require, before your spirits
they expire.
When I was but as a trickle, I splashed around, bold and fickle. Coming down the Barrack Hill,
I pranced along, both strong and shrill. Until I met, with great elation, upon holy ground, I gained
devotion. Receiving the blessings of the Saint, my heart did fill, my banks they quaked. Over-come
with joy I sloshed, and fed the valley with silty broth. The grain I reared did rise and grow and so too
the people, limb and hoe. The well-fed spearmen oft marched ore, in Roman columns bridge and oar.
An ass’s roar came often forth, echoing from a regal-hill fort. The Laigin King, his ears did fetter,
screeching murder to a barbers pratter. Undone by a musician’s lilting fear, the calling harp spoke true
and clear.
And what came then, oh happy tipple? Your mother called, you surely rippled? To Bearu’s edge
you rightly climbed and dove right in, yourself to bind.
With great joy I swam, not on my own, but four lakes waters, our banks did groan. From weir
to weir, our uisce bound, to New Versailles and thickets little. There upon me, a shadow fell, of long-
reach and darkest pell. The sun kissed mountains ore me loomed, as the Blackstairs’ gorse, gaily
bloomed. On I slung towards the sea, oh glistening song, oh happy valley.
Is it true that you have relatives there? A grassy girl, a Devil’s bit.
There are of course us sisters three. Nore, Suir and happy me. We all convene in harmony,
before hand in hand, we put to sea. There we stretch our limbs to rest and call great salmon to our
breast. They strongly journey, one and all, to start again a life-long trawl. For in our waters, we do hold,
the secret to old Ireland’s home. We wax and wane but do sustain the kernel of the blessed grain. All
through Laighin’s splendid fields there would be but dust without our yields.
With that thought in mind I did surmise to make a union with waters divine. I delved within to
the cold shock and felt it caress my every lock. As the rill churned, I did take pause, to notice how her
anger rose. Not to trifle or to tickle, the water’s body was without equal. And back to ground I did
return, baptized by these sisters stern. The water being, both true to me, life and death without pity.