Boann or Boand (modern spelling: Bóinn) is the Irish goddess of the River Boyne, a river in Leinster, Ireland. According to the Lebor Gabála Érenn she was the daughter of Delbáeth, son of Elada, of the Tuatha Dé Danann. Her husband is variously Nechtan, Elcmar or Nuada Airgetlám. Her lover is the Dagda, by whom she had her son, Aengus. In order to hide their affair, the Dagda made the sun stand still for nine months; therefore, Aengus was conceived, gestated and born in one day.
As told in the Dindsenchas, Boann created the Boyne. Though forbidden to by her husband, Nechtan, Boann approached the magical Well of Segais (also known as the Connla's Well), which was surrounded by hazels. Hazelnuts were known to fall into the Well, where they were eaten by the speckled salmon (who, along with hazelnuts, also embody and represent wisdom in Irish mythology). Boann challenged the power of the well by walking around it widdershins; this caused the waters to surge up violently and rush down to the sea, creating the Boyne. In this catastrophe, she was swept along in the rushing waters, and lost an arm, leg and eye, and ultimately her life, in the flood. The poem equates her with famous rivers in other countries, including the River Severn, Tiber, Jordan River, Tigris and Euphrates.
Tu y yo amor y odio
Tu me tratas de un mal modo
Parece que estoy en un mal sueño pero en verdad
eres mi dueño
Otra vez a cocinar
¿Quieres un pastel o un pay?
Tengo que aprender como mezclarlo con el placer
e-e-er
De chocolate o de limón
Cualquiera causa tentación
Muy importante el betún
Para el cuidado de salud, de nuestra salud
Y Recuerda que vivimos siempre en un infierno
Tu problema es la obsesión, ¿o es nuestro?
Pecaremos contra los estándares del bello
Solo por un buen sazón al corazón
Yo no se si aguantaremos
No se cuanto tiempo tenemos
Solo se que junto a ti estoy atado y no puedo irme lejos
Quiero ya tirar mi cruz
Quiero eterna juventud
Por lo pronto hay que ir hojeando el menú u-u-u
Para empezar un buen sirlon
Con mucha grasa y guarnición
Mesero tráigase licor
Para callar a esta voz que escucho en mi interior
Y recuerda que vivimos siempre en un infierno
Tu problema es la obsesión, ¿o es nuestro?
Pecaremos contra los estándares del bello