| 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 |