Aislinge Meic Con Glinne

Wheatlet, son of Milklet, Son of juicy Bacon,
Is mine own name. Honeyed Butter-roll
Is the man’s name
That bears my bag.
Haunch of Mutton
Is my dog’s name,
Of lovely leaps.
Lard, my wife,
Sweetly smiles
Across the kale-top. Cheese-curds, my daughter, Goes round the spit,
Fair is her fame. Corned Beef, my son, Whose mantle shines Over a big tail.

Aislinge Meic Con Glinne
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