By Daniel Kelly – 2020
These are the trees, chieftains eight, Their stories I will now relate, Worshiped by the Celts of old, Stories in the Ogham told. Venice on the Alder stands, The mighty tree of ancient Bran, By the lake or river side, Its flute will call the wind to ride. The Oak made Arthur’s table round, As above are the roots down in the ground, The wood that makes the strongest door, The greens man’s face it covers o’er. Nine Hazel trees of wisdom grow, By Holy Well that lets you know, Its wand is good to heal your ills, Set Brigid’s wood on window sill. The Blackberry bush holds sweet surprise, But thorns will cut your arms and thighs, Chew the leaves for gums that bleed, Leave some berries for the fairies feed. The Ivy lives in coldest ice, Cut it down, it grows back twice, Great Bacchus wore the ivy wreath, From liquor’s snare it brings relief. The Blackthorn makes a sturdy stick, Its thorn will give a nasty prick, Beware of the Lunantisidhe, If you cut the wood near samhain’s day. I sing now of the bonny Broom, Its brilliant yellow dispels doom, As hedge it keeps the fairies out, Its flowers made the Vikings stout. The Heather in the summer blooms, When burned with fern the thunder looms, Of passion of the flesh it speaks, And consequence in 40 weeks.