The Shaving of Murdoch

Murdoch, whet thy knife, that we may shave our crowns to the
Great King,
Let us sweetly give our vow, and the hair of both our heads to
the Trinity.
I will shave mine to Mary, this is the doing of a true heart,
To Mary shave thou these locks, well-formed, soft-eyed man.
Seldom hast thou had, handsome man, a knife on thy hair to shave it,
Oftener has a sweet, soft queen, comb'd her hair beside thee.
Whenever it was that we did bathe, with Brian of the well-curled
locks,
And once on a time that I did bathe, at the well of the fair-haired
Boroimhe,
I strove in swimming with Ua Chais, on the cold waters of the Fergus.

When he came ashore from the stream, Ua Chais and I strove in a race.
These two knives, one to each, were given us by Duncan Cairbreach,
No knives of knives were better; shave gently then, Murdoch.
Whet your sword, Cathal, which wins the fertile Banva,
Ne'er was thy wrath heard without fighting, brave, red-handed Cathal,
Preserve our shaved heads from cold and from heat, gentle daughter
of Joachim,
Preserve us in the land of heat, softest branch, Mary.