On one occasion the poet came to the house of Bres seeking hospitality … He entered a narrow, black, dark little house; and there was neither fire nor furniture nor bedding in it. Three small cakes were brought to him on a little dish—and they were dry. The next day he arose, and he was not thankful. As he went across the yard he said,“Without food quickly on a dish,Without cow’s milk on which a calf grows,Without a man’s habitation after darkness remains,Without paying a company of storytellers—let that be Bres’ condition.”“Bres’s prosperity no longer exists,” he said, and that was true. There was only blight on him from that hour; and that is the first satire that was made in Ireland.—Stanza 39, Cath Maige Tuired

“The Bay Will Wither If You Litter”—Inscription on top of a storm drain, Chesapeake Bay, Maryland

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