his brother Mahon, the eldest son
can't hold the sword, to find revenge
united at last, they face the Norse.
the nothern wolves, by treason slay
wielding his sword, called up the tribes
so Brian arose as Irish High King.
his wife, his queen, his love and his sin;
the shine of gold, will take its toll.
United we stand, divided we fall.
his eyes can't see, what lies ahead
The Darkness dwells, in Brian's halls
North wind proclaims: It's time for war.
Poet and bard, lover and father,
fighter upcast in many battles.
A legend forged in Irish fire.
Honor the Old Man, show your respect.
They bide their time, to find their chance.
On 1014, dire deeds awake
Draw out your swords for the sake of our King
sad songs will sing our victory
The hordes ride swiftly to their ships
A knife in the dark took the life of our King
- Where Exhale Is a Reward...
- A Never Told Prophecy
- Brian Boru's March
- Third Autumn and Winter
- The first notes of a trag..
- From the Fury of the Nors..
- The Rapture of a Butterfl..
- Lady Mary Hay's Scotch Me..
- Fallen! Fallen is Babylon..
- The Missing Boat