“Black as the storm frown of Cruachan;
glossy as the shimmer of sun-glad Corrib;
trusty as the unclenching granite of Achil’s wave-vexed shore;
beauteous as the dream cailins of Kinvarra!
… In Connacht, some day they will be telling the tale of Grainne’s wondrous courage and tireless arrowy speed.
In Connacht they will twine garlands of bog-flower and shamrogue to deck your silky mane.
“Failte!” they will shout, to greet our return.”
The Catholic Press 30th October, 1924 p 49
Excerpt from Chpt XVII
The Sword of the O’Malleys by Justin Mitchell