Time passes wearily in Elfin tonight for me,
Wearily too was yesterday and tomorrow
shall be just as dreary.
It was not always thus when Fionn was
alive, we were fighting, raiding,
hunting and feasting all day.
Wretched the lot ordained for me dragging
these stones uphill
All alone wearily drawing stone after stone
To the churchyard.
Once there was music here,
Deeds of the chase to record
Great honour bestowed on a bard.
Feeble tonight the strength in my hands,
weak my body's frame,
Weary and lame, with reason am sad
Just a pitiful rag of an old man.
Truth spoke great Fionn in wrath:
Thou shalt carry stones awhile
Before thou leavest the dewy world.'