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At the feet of the mountains |
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On this hills of ancient pride |
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I lay my eyes on the endless lake |
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And still I can hear the stories that it spake... |
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Of a folk that tried its steel |
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And found death on the battlefield |
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Once glorious! Once mine! |
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These hills are no longer alive |
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With the spirit of this valiant Tribe |
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Wirdomar made the final stand |
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The wolf breastfed descendants |
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save by crying geese |
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thereafter shadowed this wooden land |
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Our valleys witnessed no kings since |
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the day Lugh hid in the lakes |
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Once glorious! Once mine! |
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These hills are no longer alive |
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With the spirit of this valiant Tribe |
