English poem
Conall
by W. B. Yeats
Cuchulain, when will you stop Boasting of your great deeds, and weighing yourself with us two, And crying out to the world whatever we say or do, That you've said or done a better?--Nor is it a drunkard's tale, Though we said to ourselves at first that it all came out of the ale, And thinking that if we told it we should be a laughing-stock, Swore we should keep it secret.