exiles of erin
Album: Rites of Passage
Lyrics adapted from 16th century anonymous poem by J. McGaha
Copyright 2002 Boru's Ghost

For the plane shall be broke by the shame of a stranger, and the stone mansions stroke tell the woods of their danger, and the green grass and shore be with white keeps disfigured, and the moat of Rathmore be the Saxon churls haggard.

For the land of the lakes shall no more know the prospect, of valleys and breaks so
transformed is her aspect, and the Gael cannot tell in the uprooted wildwood, and the red Rigby dell the old nurse of his childhood.

For we starved by the board and we thirst amid wassail, for the guest is the Lord and the host is the vessel, through the woods let us roam through the waste wild and barren, we are the strangers at home we are the exiles of Erin.

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