Fair weather shines not on the mountain-side,
Fine-clustering fruit is not enjoyed,
The gloom of every night is dark
Since earth was put over Aed.
Ye folk of great Armagh,
With whom the son of the chief lies on his back,
Cause of reproach will come of it
That your grave is open before Aed.
In the battle of Craeb Tholcha in the north
I left my fair companions behind!
Alas for the fruit of the heavy bloodshed
Which severed Eochaid and Aed!
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