Tuatha de Danaan
I am the dispossessed no less.
I find I have no cause to bless.
The disbelief that stole my place.
A member of the fairy race.
At one time treated with respect
by men who saw us as elect.
The kindly Folk The lordly ones
Who dwelt within a hill of stones.
They feared us yet we did no harm.
A single glimpse would cause alarm
but we were here before men came
they drove us out to their great shame..
The fertile fields, the waterside
They took, aye and more beside
and we were forced to hide away
to move by night and sleep by day.
The remnants of an ancient race
this was our land, this was our place.
A proud and peaceful lineage
despoilt reduced to beggarage.
By greedy men who want it all
whose pride will bring about their fall.
This Ireland shall become accursed
mans evil nature at its worst.
By fire and famine, bloody wars
Until our curse has run its course
Irishmen shall kill Irishmen
and troubles fall to rise again.
Where both side proclaim God is theirs
The soil be watered by the tears
of women widowed without cause
by men who kill without remorse.
Both Catholic and protestant
are victims of the holy cant.
Spoken by so-called men of peace.
the priests who dogs of war release.
Tuatha de Danaan , No more
rule Ireland from shore to shore.
Our homeland has bee ripped in twain
divided up to little gain.
Sorrow and sadness rule the land
Until the fairies countermand
the curse they laid upon all men
Then blessed peace will reign again.
When men have learnt to curb their greed
the last of us will intercede.
The Ireland its sins confessed
becomes the island of the blest.
As Ireland was in days of yore
the paradise that all men sought.
Green jewel of the western sea
where all men dwelt at liberty..