The Vision of Viands

In a slumber visional,
Wonders apparitional

Sudden shone on me:
Was it not a miracle?
Built of lard, a coracle

Swam a sweet milk sea.

With high hearts heroical,
We stepped in it, stoical,

Braving billow-bounds;
Then we rode so dashingly,
Smote the sea so splashingly,
That the surge sent, washingly,

Honey up for grounds.

Ramparts rose of custard all
Where a castle muster'd all

Forces o'er the lake;
Butter was the bridge of it,
Wheaten meal the ridge of it,

Bacon every stake.

Strong it stood, and pleasantly
There I entered presently

Hying to the hosts;
Dry beef was the door of it,
Bare bread was the floor of it,

Whey-curds were the posts.

Old cheese-columns happily,
Pork that pillared sappily,
Raised their heads aloof;

While curd-rafters mellowly
Crossing cream-beams yellowly,
Held aloft the roof.

Wine in well rose sparklingly,
Beer was rolling darklingly,

Bragget brimmed the pond.
Lard was oozing heavily,
Merry malt moved wavily,

Through the floor beyond.

Lake of broth lay spicily,
Fat froze o'er it icily,

'Tween the wall and shore;
Butter rose in hedges high,
Cloaking all its edges high

White lard blossomed o'er.

Apple alleys bowering,
Pink-topped orchards flowering,

Fenced off hill and wind;
Leek tree forests loftily,
Carrots branching tuftily,

Guarded it behind.

Ruddy warders rosily
Welcomed us right cosily

To the fire and rest;
Seven coils of sausages,
Twined in twisted passages,

Round each brawny breast.

Their chief I discover him,
Suet mantle over him,

By his lady bland;
Where the cauldron boiled away,
The Dispenser toiled away,

With his fork in hand.

Good King Cathal, royally,
Surely will enjoy a lay,
Fair and fine as silk;
From his heart his woe I call,
When I sing heroical,
How we rode, so stoical,
O'er the Sea of Milk.