The Sharpest Sword
| Ríoghnach Locha Eachach |
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The sharpest sword costs a life to make
For loyalty hones the keenest blade Those who have it will weep for its cost While those who covet it will find only loss A boy holds a sword made from his mother's death Her body fuel for the forge's breath A twin sword there is, the yin to its yang Held in the court of a cruel tyrant king The boy sets off on his quest of vengeance But soon realizes the task's weight immense How can a boy challenge the king's court When his father fell to the king by his own sword? A hunter of bounties hears the boy's story And cannot help but feel great pity "You cannot enter the palace," he says "But I could, if I brought the king your head" The boy has long been blinded by his rage His honor worth more than his life, he gives way The hunter collects the bounty from the king And places head proudly 'fore throne to be seen Dead eyes stare at king till he cannot stand "Boil the skin off" is his command Forty days and nights it cooks in the pot But still the head stares and refuses to rot Finally hunter encourages king To come closer and examine the thing A slash 'cross his neck, and king's head does fall Into the pot, the guards standing appalled Knowing his death is also at hand, The hunter comes up with one last plan A slash 'cross his neck, his head joins the two Now the guards can decide who is who Retrieved from the pot, each head a skull A king no different from peasant dull Buried together, the Tomb of Three Kings And now their legend, the bards duly sing The sharpest sword costs a life to make For loyalty hones the keenest blade Those who have it will weep for its cost While those who covet it will find only loss |
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