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Across the northern seas, we travel |
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The cold freezing winds will arouse us |
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Spells from a woman have sent us to the seas of avagon |
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Transformed by our mother, we are |
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I am CuChulainn, the warrior of Ulster |
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We'll search the lands to discover the Tir Na N'og |
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The sea god guides our ship to Ireland |
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The storms push us to the palace of Visnech |
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Our swords with fire are rising |
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Our axes with fire have risen |
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The call from the silver horn to Visnech splits the air |
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Warriors answered the horn behind the western lands |
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Hoofs and steel hammered past the cries beyond the thorned hills |
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Acknowledging the commands from the king |
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Our play lies north to the path of Nite |
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And brings us upon the fortress walls where battles raged |
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Raise the magick hammer of Mjollnir |
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Your underworld of Annwvyn draws us through |
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Emer, thy lucious woman, I shall sleep with you |
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I kiss the naked skin of white |
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I lust your black hair, my woman divine |
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I see a holocaust in your eyes |
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(You are my princess of live) |
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(You are my princess of life) |
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Feis Mor Tir Na N'Og |
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In the land of Visnech, the darkness never sinks away |
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All will fall upon the southern steel, yet behind the burning fires |
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Now, we bathe at the bleeding coast, |
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while women laugh with the Gailant knights |
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How sad is it to see my father's fallen halls? |
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Can I feel the pure blast from the frigid winds? |
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I awake the gods Epona, Cernunnos, and Lugh |
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Yes, I'm CuChulainn, warrior fo Ulster |
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In order to worship with fire and sword |
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The storms shall force us to the palace of Visnech |
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Cold, cold, how cold are the plains of Lugh? |
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You should ask thy Emer to reply |
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We've finally found the last paradise |
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It remains in the light of Tir Na N'Og |
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With the hand of Ler, Irish Sea god |
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We shall complete our long excursion |