1. Laudabiliter

Failed once again by the men of the cloth.
Condemned by the chair of the Rock of Rome.
“Here be the parchment and an emerald crusted ring.
Go to those barbarians, teach them to sing
To the tune of its church and the hymn of its head.
I condemn those barbarians, leave them for dead
If they feel they cannot follow my rule then cast them to sea in a boat made for fools.

And one more thing that I do command
They part with their gold, the good and the bad
So that they do pay homage to the Vicar of Christ
And pay Peter’s Pence for the Church’s rigth
To create new temples and palaces for God
And his servants of course, for these be hard times.”

2. King Of The English

Charged with the most pressing of tasks
We journey far from Laighin’s shore
In search of aid for my Righ’s cause
From he who styles himself King of the English.
The second Henry, great grandson of the bastard
Who wormed his way across the English channel
Deposing the Saxon (who were) weakened by Danes.
Old habits die hard…..landgrabbers.

So what be our fate. Vanquished of Victors.
Wolves gnaw at our heels so we ask the help of Lions.

To Wales where did begin our search.
To Fitzharding, De Barra and the Fleming.
O’er the March to the English plain – Saxon under the Gall Glassa’s yoke.
In London we’re told he be in France fighting to hold his third of that land.
Another voyage across the channel. Before the Saxon they deposed the French.

So what be our fate. Vanquished of Victors.
Wolves gnaw at our heels so we ask the help of Lions.
But to who will they turn when the wolves are gone?
Frank, Saxon, Scot and Welsh – In their fate I feel the answer.

Many days of travel by horse and foot through a land rich ev’n in the poverty of war
‘Till finnaly with the King of the English was my Righ granted an audience.

The Gall be strange, slaves to ceremony, all restrained – cold if you will.
Cruel, calculating but fierce in war. Is our fate to follow the Saxon and Frank?

Henry grants permission for troops to be gathered by my King in his name
By royal writ and we return to Britain.

So what be our fate. Vanquished of Victors.
Wolves gnaw at our heels so we ask the help of Lions.
But to who will they turn when the wolves are gone?
Frank, Saxon, Scot and Welsh – In their fate I feel the answer.

3. Dawning Of The Grey

She be calm today, the most dangerous of waters.
Expanses of water as the eye can see.
Beyond its borders is where I’ll gain my victory
And salvage my crown, Laighin be for me.

Though my kingdom be ruined, my family be strong.
Time shall pass. Tighernán will be gone.
With the grey foreigner under my rule
‘Twill be Ruaidhrí our glorious king who will be made of fool.

Upstarts from Connacht his family be
Thinking ruler of that bog could one day be Ardrigh.
His mead must have been made much stronger than normal
If he felt he could become warmonger.

A wind slowly starts to rise from the east.
I can feel the salt sting my face, the time be near.
It will not be long ‘till they be here.
Our allies will help us to crush the pretender king.

A blackbird perched atop of the sun
Blinded by the darkness of Adrian’s Bull.
Spewing across the sea from his homeland
As the threat of his own kin does finnaly fall at the feet of the devils grey.

Dawn did break,
As did he bows of their ships – the water.
With their armour and helm – glittering in the sunrise
At the mouth of the bay known as Bannow.

The first of Bealtaine 1169, a date destined to strike fear and loathing
In the hearts of the Irish for near a millenium
As the sails were lowered.

While oar and the strength of man did the ships propel up to battle and bloodshed.
Victory… and the rise of the Grey
Beyond the mouth of the bay known as Bannow.

With a hastely gathered five hundred men did Diarmuid Mac Murchadha heal south.
While still more foreigners Grey under De Prendergast’s banner did land at Bannow.

And so to the Veisafjord did the warriors go Norman, Fleming, Welsh and Irish
To besiege the town of the Dubhghall
And teach the Norse a lesson in soldiery.

4. All Éire Will Quake

Ua Ruaire you bastard. Ua Conchobhair you fool.
In the name of Mac Murchadha do I rule
With Grey Foreigners at my command
All Éire will quake. The Kings wake
To the burning of their Dúns,
The waiting og their women
The crying of their children
And the death-moan of their men
As their souls leak from their rotting corpses
To whatever Gods do they believe in.

Did you really think, oh mighty Ard Righ
That I would send my warriors home
And once more groan under your yoke?
You misguided fool, soon we’ll do the battle
At my command
All Éire will quake. The Kings wake
To the burning of their Dúns,
The waiting og their women
The crying of their children
And the death-moan of their men
As their souls leak from their rotting corpses
To whatever Gods do they believe in.

Waiting for my time to come.
Hoping that my plans be not undone.
For my time it be at hand
To finnaly reclaim my land.

Horror. The Ard Righ still has my son.
Despair. He would not dare to kill my son.
Hostage. So I could turn to my land.
Ochone. My scheme undone by death’s hand.

5. Bloody Alice (Of Abergavenny)

A screaming wraith atop a cliff
Writhing in an orgasm of slaughter.
One-by-one seventy men
Did she depatch with an ever blunting blade of an axe.

Bloody Alice of Abergavenny
Gripped by the rapture of Gaedhelic gore
Dripping slowly down the cliffside.
Seventy dead, yet she wants more.
Bloody Alive of Abergavenny
From what fashion house does your cloth come?
All natural fibres I’ll warrant
From the dye, to the cloth, to the thread from the dead.

Prisoners they were but no matter to her.
Her bloodlust fuelled by the pain of her loss.
For earlier that day her spouse’s corpse lay decaying
On the bloody field of battle.

Bloody Alice of Abergavenny
Gripped by the rapture of Gaedhelic gore
Dripping slowly down the cliffside.
Seventy dead, yet she wants more.
Bloody Alive of Abergavenny
Her body dripping from her labour and it’s fruits.
As she gives so she taketh away.

Though he was of the invading force
And dispatched by the defenders.
As so often is the case in life
A woman’s rational is replaced by madness.

A screaming atop a cliff
Blooddied breasts for all to see
Yet no man looked on her with lust
As her needs fullfilled with a montain of corpses to her knees.

Bloody Alice of Abergavenny
Gripped by the rapture of Gaedhelic gore
Dripping slowly down the cliffside.
Seventy dead, yet she wants more.
Bloody Alive of Abergavenny
Her body dripping from her labour and it’s fruits.
As she gives so she taketh away.

6. The Sacking Of The Vedrafjord

And the tyrants did reach the Vedrafjord
Where the very earth did wail from the treachery
Sang by the soil, soaked through at Dún Domhnaill
Breaching the walls the vermin did enter
Women and children and men they were butchered
The streets ran with blood
The corpses piled high
The mountain of dead rose to the sky

Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did man the walls
Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did fight and fall
As attack, attack, attack did the Grey ones mount
Pulling down the walls
Did they then sack and slaughter all

Raghnall's Tower was last to fall
Long alter the slaughter at the wall
Ua Faoileán, two Sitrics, the Norse Lord Raghnall
Faught and repelled them time and again
'Till finally wearied and covered in blood
They succumbed to the butchers
Two Sitrics beheaded
The others though Mac Murchadha did save
Though the Norman butchers did want them to the grave

Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did man the walls
Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did fight and fall
As attack, attack, attack did the Grey ones mount
The city in ruins
Did they then sack and slaughter all

And so amidst the piles of rotting corpses
Were Aoife and Richard de Clare wed
'Neath the August sun of 1170
Was the treachery complete amidst the bodies of the dead

Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did man the walls
Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did fight and fall
As attack, attack, attack did the Grey ones mount
Pulling down the walls
Did they then...
Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did man the walls
Gaedhel and Gall Dubh did fight and fall
As attack, attack, attack did the Grey ones mount
The city in ruins
Did they then sack and slaughter all

7. A Dirge

(инструментал)

8. Damned When Dead

The earth cold and damp presses against my shroud
Mortality has fled my mortal frame
Immortal will forever be my name

This earth has drank much blood
In the fight to save my land
Strange it is this feeling knowing my crown has passed to the Gall's hand

The bells knell in sorrow as I am lowered down
The cold earth is silent for a time
My headstone, a cross of stone, bears my name
To remind all men that here I lie

Deep within the bosom of the world
I finally become aware
Noises that I cannot comprehend
Whispers at first but now a roar

Deafening it is. Fear does grip my soul
What is this ancient horror that calls me to its own?

A thunderous crack sounds overhead
As my cross is shorn in two
Has God passed sentence on my life?
I fear it could be true
My soul is slowly being sucked back to whence it came
Slowly I realise it be not God
Manannán be his name

The earth which I no longer feel press against my skin
The shroud half hanging from my corpse
Trailing still within the bog which spews me up from the bowels
Of this ancient land I knees
Ochone, what is this hell on earth
Is this what from my dreams grew?

Putrid when living. Damned when dead