Remember well the 30th of January
The feeling of dread that was in the air
The people marched for their right to equality
They only wanted to be treated fair
Shots were fired by a mindless military
The people ran they were unarmed
Across the world we will read of Derry
And those who died by oppressive hands

13 people lost their lives that Sunday
Women, children and innocent men
Many wounded lay crying in agony
The knights of Malta attended them
And so began the government cover up
And so began the lies and deceit
Soldiers statements would be changed and torn up
No reports would come from men on the street

As the years went by the people began to talk
The hidden crimes were now being told
Innocent protestors - shot in the back
Left to die in the winter cold
The bullets used had all been tampered
Maximum injury would come from them
This tyranny will not go un-noticed
Our day will come again...

Instrumental.

A warrior so proud of the woman by his side
His faithful heart would take no other bride
For three years they lived, midst the forests of the land
Strong and proud was the love of this woman and man

Like the sky high above, no beginning and no end
The woman that he loves, his life and best friend
Until that day in December when the snowstorms did start
Stalked the Norseman with his bow, put an arrow through his heart

Hear the cry, the cry of the winter wind
Blowing across the land
Stealing his life from him
From the earth, and into the otherworld
The land of Tir Na N'Og
Is the place where he must go

'Woman come to my side
Let your arms shield my pain
For I know I will not spend another day with you again'
They say she will not move
From the place where he did die
Once so strong and so proud
She cannot talk but cry.

(Cruachan version of "The Rocky Road To Dublin" folklore song)

In the merry month of June, from me home I started,
Left the girls a tune, nearly broken-hearted, saluted father dear,
Kissed me darlin' mother, drank a pint of beer,
Me grieving tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, leave where I was born,
With the stout black horn to banish ghosts and goblins,
A brand new pair of brogues, rattling o'er the bogs,
And frightening all the dogs on

CHORUS:
The rocky road to Dublin; one two three four five
Hunt the hare and turning her down the rocky road,
and all the way to Dublin! Whack fol lal dee rah!

Well in Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, me spirits blithe and airy, took the drop o' the pure,
To keep me heart from sinking, that's the Paddy's cure,
Whenever he's on for drinking,
To see the lassies smile, laughing all the while,
At me curious tales, which set your heart to bubblin,
Asked if I was hired, wages I required, till I was nearly tired of

Chorus.

Well in Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, a view of that fine city, so then I took a stroll,
All among the quality, bundle it was stole,
While in the neat locality,
Something crossed me mind, when I looked behind,
No bundle cord I find, upon me stick a wobblin,
Inquiring for the rogue, set me call to brogue, wasn't much in vogue on

Chorus.

Well from there I got away, me spirits never failing,
Landed on the quay, just as the ship was sailing, the captain at me roared,
Said that no room had he, when I jumped aboard,
A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs, they'd some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubblin,
When off Hollyhead, wished meself was dead, or better far instead down
The rocky road to Dublin; one two three four five

Well the boys of Liverpool, when we safely landed,
Called meself a fool, I could no longer stand it, blood began to boil,
Temper I was losin, for old Erin's Isle,
They began abusing,
"Hurrah me soul," says I, me shillelagh I let fly,
Galway boys were nigh, and saw I was a'hobblin
With a loud hurray, joining in the affray, we quickly cleared the way for

Chorus.

The sky was grey and leaden,
Wolves howling on the wind.
Above the land of Tír Na n-Óg
The ancient calm still reigned.

"I long to stand on my home shore,"
Said Ossian in a glare.
"But Ossian love, the is your home",
Said Niamh of the golden hair.

She seen the look upon his face,
She knew the pain he felt.
He longed to be home among his race,
With his ring-sword strapped to his belt.

"Return my love to the land of man
but be warned time rests heavily there,
Come back to me if ever you can,
Back to the land of the fair."

"Do not dismount from the steed you ride,
From this world it belongs.
If you dismount you shall fall by its side,
To be remembered only in faerie songs".

He galloped across the faerie seas,
Back to the land of man.
Watched by the Gods and the Daoine Sídhe,
His life to end as it began.

"I have returned", he said aloud,
But no one was there to hear.
His noble home once bold and proud,
Had crumbled through the many years.

A power had come into the land,
To threaten the olden ways.
The people ignore the ancient Gods,
They bid farewell to a golden age.

Ossian stopped his gallant steed,
He could see some people ahead.
"Help us please, our brothers are trapped-
Beneath this dolmen", they said.

He leaned down from his mount,
And gripped the dolmen firm.
From the earth the rocks was freed,
The people beneath unharmed.

But from the strain his saddle broke,
To the earth he was cast.
A cry of pain burst from his throat,
The years now caught him at last.

In Tír Na n-Óg Niamh shed a tear,
When she saw the rider-less horse.
Ossian was gone, her greatest fear,
Her heart was full of deep remorse.

Last night as I lay dreaming of pleasent days gone by
Me mind been bent on rambling to Ireland I did fly
I stepped on board a vision and followed with a will
Till next I came to anchor at the cross near Spancill Hill.

Delighted by the novelty, enchanted with the scene
Where in me early boyhood where often I had been
I thought I heard a murmer and I think I hear it still
It's the little stream of water that flows down Spancill Hill.

To amuse a passing fancy I lay down on the ground
And all me school copanions they shortly gathered round
When we were home returning we danced with bright goodwill
To Martin Moynahan's music at the cross at Spancill Hill.

It was on the twenty-forth of June, the day before the fair
When Ireland's sons and daughters and friends assembled there
The young, the old, the brave and the bold came their duty to fulfill
At the parish church in Clooney, a mile from Spancill Hill.

I went to see me neighbours to see what they might say
The old ones they were dead and gone, the young ones turning grey
I met the tailor Quigley, he as bold as ever still
For he used to make me britches when I lived at Spancill Hill.

I paid a flying visit to me first and only love
She's as fair as any lily and gentle as a dove
She threw her arms around me, crying Johnny I love you still
She was a farmer's daughter, the pride of Spancill Hill.

Well I dreamt I hugged and kissed her as in the day's of yore
She said, Johnny you're only joking as many the times before
The cock crew in the morning, he crew both loud and shrill
And I woke in California, many miles from Spancill Hill.

In a time of myth and magic
Lived a man of timeless power
Lir was his name
But his temper had turned sour
He would not be king of the land
Bov Dearg was chosen instead
Lir would pay no tribute to him
And secretly wished he was dead

Alas with time Lir's wife did die
And he was full of great sadness
Dearg heard this and sent word to Lir
To meet him in his palace
When they met, they both embraced
Their friendship was made then
Dearg summoned his daughter Eve
And told Lir he must marry again

Lir's love for Eve was as strong as with his first wife
A seed was planted, Fionnula and Aedh were born
But her next child birth would take away her life
Fiachra and Conn
From their mother's stomach were born

Lir's sadness knew no bounds
He cried out to the night
Dearg was there to comfort him
And help him see the light
He had four beautiful children
And with time another bride
Eve's sister Aoife would stay loyal to his side

But Aoife had a jealous side - a cancer in her mind
She moved against the children
Love for them she could not find
She took them in her chariot to a lake not far away
And changed them into swans
Like night time into day

300 years on Derravaragh, so commenced the spell
The children would swim to the shore
Their story for to tell
300 years on the sea of Moyle
A cruel and bitter place
The children missed their father here
The smile upon his face

In the sea of Moyle the waves did crash
And beat the land with might
The rain fell fierce and the wind blew hard
The swans all feared for their lives
Fionnula was strong and wisest of all
And guarded her brothers from strife
Under her wings they hid from night
And waited for the morning light

Finally the day did come to leave this terrible sea
300 more years to live as swans
Then they at last would be free
To Inish Gluaire the swans did fly
As last as they would go
New lands and kingdoms everywhere
Fionnula did see down in below

There they waited, till at last the day did dawn
The spell was ending
They felt themselves transform
They were now ancient
Their youth was gone forever
And as they died
They held hands and went together...

True, you ride the finest horse I have ever seen,
Standing sixteen, one or two,
With eyes wide and green,
And you ride the horse so well,
Hands light to the touch,
I could never go with you
No matter how I wanted to.

Ride on, see you,
I could never go with you
No matter how I wanted to.

When you ride into the night
Without a trace behind,
Run your claw along my gut, one last time.
I turn to face an empty space
Where you used to lie,
And look for a spark that lights the night
Through a teardrop in my eye.

Ride on, see you,
I could never go with you
No matter how I wanted to.

Life for you, it was not easy
And at ties was so unfair
In a time when work was scarce
Many burdens were yours to bear

You bore the brunt of grief
When Patrick left the earth
Such a tragedy to happen
To a child four months from birth

When husband Jack did lay
For years in a hospital bed
You were by his side relentlessly
To help him through this dread

You had no time for science
Technology was not your friend
You lived your life in black and white
Until the very end

You've gone now to that other place
Your work on earth is done
Jack is waiting there for you
In his arms he holds your son

We know it may be long
Before we hear your voice again
You will always be remembered
Never forgotten - Susie Moran.

Loneliness was all she knew
Because of her God sent beauty
Evil and carnage were sure to ensue
Her death was Conchobars duty
The high king Conchobar would not dare
So he hid her away from his people
'Deirdre will live and grow up fair
Then marry me in my temple'

(18 years later)
She was disgusted by Conchobar
And vowed she would not be wed
'I love only the man who bears the colours - black, white and blood red'
'I know such a man', her aide explained
But Deirdre could only hope
Uisneach's sons were led to the forest
With Naoise, she would elope

No place was safe for the four exiles
They left Eireann with heavy hearts
But to see her face, and see her smile
Gave the brothers strength to depart
In Albas' hills they made their home
And began a simple life
Local hatred had suddenly grown
Men wanted her as a wife

Conchobar dreamed of Deirdre his true love
He longed for the touch of her skin
His duties neglected, his life so affected
'Why did she leave the court of the King?'

After some time he explained he was wrong
Or so we were led to believe
'This sorrowful song I have sung for so long,
Naoise agus Deirdre I now forgive'

Naoise always longed to go back home
When he heard the news he wept
The brothers prepared for the journey ahead
With Fergus Mac Roth they all left
The exiles returned to the King alone
And knew there was something not right
Conchobar made his plans be known
The brothers took up the fight

The exiles fled to the sorrowful forest
Followed by the king's men
Deirdre was hidden but they needed rest
They could not fight again
Naoise smelt death and he quietly said
'Please Deirdre stay where you are'
A belt of a sword and the brothers fell dead
Deirdre smelt blood on the air

Conchobar:
'Cannot you see, I did this for you
Our wedding can now take place'
They left for Fern Mag, as the cold wind blew
In a chariot she felt death's embrace
'I am Deirdre, for a short time alive
To end life be evil, it is worse to survive'
From the chariot she fell to her death
To be with Naoise, to smell his sweet breath...

He holds a twisted torc in his hand,
the forests are his ruling land.

"Great god Cernunnos, return to Earth again,
come at my call and show thyself to men,
sheperd of goats, upon the wild hills way,
lead thy lost flock from darkness unto day".

the Horned God is our nature deity,
yet modern man would from his presence flee.

"Forgotten are the ways of sleep and night,
men seek for them, whose eyes have lost the light,
open the door, the door that hath no key,
the door of dreams, wereby men come to thee".

Sheperd of goats, O answer unto me!
The summerlands is where we shall meet thee.

To invoke thee...
The Horned God.