Crimson and Gold He sat looking above Mag Slecht
Receiving the adoration of the Gaels
An idol of gold, and his twelve minions of stone
Accepting their sacrifices. He was their god
The Bowed One of the Mound"
Prostrating themselves before him,
The people were given their life. Now the plain is desolate
The screams of the children are no more
The wind carries remembrance at Samhain
But the crimson no longer mingles with the gold. —Jay Barrymore | 
