Deirdre’s story is a sad and epic tale of love, betrayal and heartache – as well as death, blood and vengeance. Only in Cowal, among its gentle lochs and hills did the great Irish beauty find a measure of happiness.
Deirdre of the Sorrows Draped over his shoulder The cloud crept toward dawn And masked the soft-edged sigils Of drought dulled heather. Her scent curled about his Tonsure of Rowan and Alder, As he opened his chest In a supple twist of his hips – He revealed the long loch Of his cavernous belly, And the glittering breadth Of his seaward ardour. Only then did she weep, Effacing herself, Until all that remained Was a shiver of mist in the air.