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Unidentified Gaelic poem

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"The players assembled, twelve fine, hearty men,
They strapped on their cauldrons, stood poised to fly,
At the sound of the horn they were swiftly airborne
But ten of their number were fated to die.
—Gaelic poem[src]

This eleventh-century Gaelic poem describes the danger of the early broomstick game, Creaothceann.[1]


Notes and references

  1. Quidditch Through the Ages, Chapter 2 (Ancient Broom Games)

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