|Siobhán an Einigh of Connacht|
By Maeve, by Mab, by Morrigan
The Maiden, the Mother, the Crone
By the fire in the sky and the tears in my eyes
You'll reap of what you have sewn.
My sword shall send you all home!
My city is sacked and my lover lies dead
But through the whip's tear I swear my oath here:
Your deaths shall be my aim
Oh Romans, I now proclaim!
I gather my men and we set out for war
Three towns now we've plundered and slain
Your London is sacked and your armies lie dead
My wrath is shall not be stayed
The Gods have heard my claim
You gather your men to brace for attack
Your ranks overwhelm my own
But as the light fades at least I can say:
Dear Romans, I've made you atone
Your deaths have soothed my soul
Chorus: - in past tense
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