At the feet of the mountains On this hills of ancient pride I lay my eyes on the endless lake And still I can hear the stories that it spake... Of a folk that tried its steel And found death on the battlefield Once glorious! Once mine! These hills are no longer alive With the spirit of this valiant Tribe Wirdomar made the final stand The wolf breastfed descendants save by crying geese thereafter shadowed this wooden land Our valleys witnessed no kings since the day Lugh hid in the lakes Once glorious! Once mine! These hills are no longer alive With the spirit of this valiant Tribe
valiant, hill, tribe, wirdomar, glorious