Lyrics from 'Nine Waves From The Shore'

The Landing Of Amergin


Winds rising, Waves Crashing,

Amergins eyes fixed on the shore!

Sons of The Gael At Inver Slane,

Return to Revenge the death of Ith

Sent forth by Mileds Sons

If you can not claim the land!

Then your kin will follow

And take it as their own!


The Ships came the Tuatha

Ran to the shore!

Casting ancient spells

To subdue them!

The Gael hindered

By their enchantments

Finally they landed at Inver Sceine!

They Marched to Slieve Mis,

Eibhline And to Uisneach,

They were met by Three Queens,

Amergin spoke to them Fodhla,

Banba and Eriu!


To the realm of Teamhair

The Gael did journey,

A great quarrel was among

Cermaits Sons!

Even with a house so full of riches,

Food and wealth as far

As the eye could see!

The Gaels were puzzled

And confused at their rage,

And Among the sons

Amergin rose proclaiming:




Heber Heremon and Amergin,

Were left to lay claim of Eire!

Donn who was swept into the sea!

He called out to treachery

"There is none here!" Amergin said

And he called to the great wind,

That whom is tossing

In the sea may he reach land,

That in its mountains, valleys,

Forests and rivers,

And great waters

That he may find a place.

A king of our own

And a place for our kin.

The wind grew silent and law calm.


I am the force in the wind

I am the strong waves of the sea

I am the horns of the bull

I am the eagle wings spread

I am the blazing sun

I am a oak in the wood

I am a boar from the hunt

I am a salmon in the water

I am a lake deep and endless

I am the word of knowledge

I am the sword and spear in battle

I am the one who puts fire in its head


Who spreads light

In the gathering on the hills?

Who can tell the ages of the moon?

Who can tell the place

Where the sun rests?

The Sons refused to battle then but

Said make us an offer fair!

Amergin told his men to go

Nine waves from the shore!


Rising waves crash at the ships

The wind blasting at the fray

Hail to Amergin Hail to him

Hail to Amergin The Druid Of the Gael.

Dark clouds gathering above

A wind unnatural amassing

Hail to Amergin Hail to him

Hail to Amergin The Druid Of the Gael.


The Gael had left in their ships.

The Men of Dea arrived,

Casting a Great Wind

It scathered them all.

Against the waves under

A blackened sky!


Amergin knew something was afoot.

Arranan knew this aswell!

He died with his ship

Against the rocks!

This wind unnatural

Untamed and wild...


Donn and Twenty-four

Did drown in the sea,

Ir's body was thrown

And cast to the shore,

His enemies were in dread

Of his name.

Heremon at Inver Colpa of the Sword

Five of Mileds Sons!

Tossed by the wind!

And Devoured by the Great Sea!

The Battle Of Tailtin


Queen Eriu with the Men of Dea

Fought the Sons of the Gael,

Fais and Scota met their death,

Laid between valley and mountain.

The Sons of the Gael lost

Three hundred men,

But took with them

The lives of a thousand.


Eriu went back to Tailtin,

Aer and Eithis were buried,

The Gael journeyed to Inver Colpa!

A message of war was sent

To Cermaits Son's

To battle for Ireland's kingship

Once and for all,

They came with the best

Of Tuatha de Danann,

The Sons of the Gael remembered the death of Ith!

Great tides of battle crashed

Into the fray.

The Gaels had broke the Men of Dea,

Warrior's lay strewn

Among Tailtin's fields,

Food for the crows to dine and feast.


Sword and Spear

Battered Shields

Banners Blown

Across by the wind.

A fire fading on the hill.

A Battle standard remains.


Eriu, Fodhla and Banba perished

With three of their kings!

The Gael masters of Ireland forever!

The Tuatha fell into great disarray,

Followed still by the Gael.


The Men of Dea overthrown

Ireland belonged to the Gael.

Heber took Munster

And gave part to Amergin,

Heremon claimed Leinster

And Connacht.

Ulster was claimed

By Eimher at Emain Macha.


Sword and Spear

Nine hundred years

Banners blown

Across by the wind.

On the hills of Emain Macha

A Battle standard remains.


The Men of Dea were overthrown,

The Gael masters of Ireland forever.

The Kingship Of Bodb Dearg


After Tailtin, the Tuatha

Were without a place to remain.

Manannan created a new home,

Among the hills and valleys

Of Ireland hidden,

That no man could see through

But pass through.


The Tuatha were assembled

In the halls in council.

"We need a king to be over us"

The Tuatha did say.

Bring forth those

Who would be fit to be King.


From the White Field Lir

Of Sidhe Fionnachaidh

From Ilbrech of Ess Ruadh,

Bodh Dearg of the Dagda born

From Bri Leith, Midhir the Proud,

And Angus Og, Son of the Dagda.


The Circle formed in the great halls

And the Council of High Men

They did gather,

For the sake of the Dagda and the Tuatha de Danann

Bodh Dearg must and will be king.



Leaving the halls for his enchanted Home in Sidhe Femen,

The Tuatha raise their spears

And shields in glory to him.

The war drums echo to

The chants of the druids

And men and women of the Tuatha, Unite!

In his hall of Brugh Na Boinne

Bodb Dearg he is king,

Along the hillside and the valleys,

The winds whip through the plains,

In his throne and in his halls,

Celebration claims into the night.

The Dagda on the hill

Looking at the KING.

His Son!

His Son!

Sorrow Of The Dagda


The Dagda at his home

Of Brugh Na Boinne

The Hall of the Morrigu

And Cermaits Birthplace within

The Prison of The Grey

Of Macha The Hill Of Dabilla

Where the Hound of Boann did be.

In these Halls,

The Sorrow of the Dagda!


At one time the Dagda made a vat,

For his daughter Ainge she was proud,

She decided to create

`Her own out of wood and sticks.

Nuadas Son Gaible found it

And threw it away.

A great shadow and curse

Befell the Dagda.

One day a man of Connacht

Did come to see him with his wife.

Corrgenn was his name,

Aedh had fallen for his wife.

That Great anger exploded

And he killed Aedh in response.

Everyone thought the Dagda

Would kill him but he did not,

He sat with a troubled brow

And thought about his life.

He spared his life

But there would have to be a toll.

Looking at Aedhs body,

He knew what must be done,

To avenge him and to bring peace

To his home and to his son,

And as the morning dawn creeped in, The truth and toll became clear.

"Corrgenn Take my son and carry him, Upon your back and never let him fall,

Find a gravestone the same size fitting For my son and bury him there."

Corrgeen spent an age looking for

The stone and the journey was hard,

On Loch Feabhail he finally had found it And he rested Aedhs body there.

Corrgenn did lift the stone

Above his head

A glimpse of hope in his eye!

But no sooner had he

Lifted the stone he himself fell,

And he died.

The Dagda, beside himself with grief, Summoned two of his men

To build a rath around his son

And Corrgenn's grave.

Imheall and Garbhan shaped it

And made it so.


The Hill Of Aileac was its name...

The Hill of Signs and of Stone...

Made by tears of blood.

The Sorrow of the Dagda.

Conn Of The Hundred Battles


Conn was in Teamhair at the Rath of The Kings,

The dawn of a blistering sun,

With his three Druids with him,

Maol, Bloc and Bhuice;

And three poets, Ethain,

Corb and Cesarn.

Looking for people of the Sidhe.

He stood upon a stone,

And it screamed under his feet.

The screams were heard

All over the lands of Teamhair.

"Where has it come from

And why did it scream?"

Conn asked his druid

With a vacant stare,

No answer revealed till the end

Of fifty-three days.

The stone is the Lia Fail,

From the lands of Falias,

In Teamhair it is and will be forever,

And if no king comes to the end

Of the gathering

There will be drought

And suffering in that year.


And while they waited

A mist of blackness arose,

A figure in the darkness,

Noise of a rider coming forth,

The rider threw three spears!

Each one faster than the last!

And at the sound of his name

The rider stopped.

He came to them

And bade them welcome.

They came to an ancestral plain,

A king's rath, and a golden tree


At its door,

And inside the rath, a grand hall

And a roof of white bronze.

So they went into the house,

The Rider in his Ancient Chair,

The reflection of the sun

On his shining face.


That woman is the Kingship of Ireland Forever,

Conn you will fight a hundred battles Before you die.

And I, I am the Sun!

I am Lugh of the Long Hand!

Anann : Ermne's Daughter


Anann, Ernmas's Daughter

Deep within Temhair she dwell's

A raging fire by a great cooking spit,

The Crow of battle

Wandering overhead.


Anann, She is the Crow of battle.

Anann, trinity of the Morrigan.

Anann, Eyes on the battlefield.

Anann, Flying overhead.


Mechi one of her sons died

By Mac Cecht on Magh Fertaige.

Three Hearts Serpent bound within,

For if mechi lived,

Anything living in

Ireland would have wasted away.

At the top of Magh Luathad

The Plain of Ashes,

Mac Cecht did burn his three hearts

And threw them into a stream.


The water turned black as death

And everything within it died.

The sun covered in the shade

Of a hundred crows.


The Morrigan lifting

The dead from battle

To their final resting place.

Goddess of Battle, Strife, Fertility.

Your form of crow, wolf and eel,

Anann is her name.

The Trinity of the Morrigan,

Badb, Macha and Nemain.


Deep within Temhair she dwell's

A raging fire by a great cooking spit,

Carrying the warriors

To the great hall's

Of high kings.

Lyrics from 'Nuada of the Silver Arm'

Arrival of the Tuatha


Ships of fire burst through

The mist of the skies,

The Tuatha De Danann,

From the high air, arrive.

Four corners of the world,

Four cities, four wise Men,

Four treasures!

Morias, Urias, Arias and Senias.


Nuada the High King,

Manannan, god of the Sea,

Ogma god of Ogham,

Diancecht god of Life,

Eire, Fodla and Banba,

And Dana the all Mother.


The first day of Bealtaine,

King Eochaid of the Firbolgs came

With his army from the South.

Residing in Magh Rein

Till the day of battle arrived.

The Tuatha arrived from the Northwest of Connacht

To meet their enemy at Magh Rein.

The calm before the storm,

Winds whip through the fields of Temhair.


King Eochaid had a dark vision,

He told his druids,

In turn they told the king

That a strong enemy

Was rising up against him,

It would not be long till war would begin.

The Mighty Sreng


King Eochaid of the Firbolg’s,

Had a meeting with his men,

A warrior to face the Tuatha.

His name the Mighty Sreng.

In return watchers of the Tuatha

Sent their own champion, Bres.

Both warriors observed each other

By the hillside of the mountain pass.


Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to fight!

Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to die!

The Two became puzzled,

When they spoke in their mother tongue.

They spoke in Irish and came to speak,

Laying down their shields for fear.

Observing the craft of each other's spear

To learn each ways fatal!

Craiseach was its name,

The name Sreng gave to them.


Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to die!

Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to fight!

Bres turned to Sreng and said

We will take half of Ireland!

And if we can not,

A war will begin, blood will flow.

Sreng went back to his king,

Told of what he'd learned,

When the king heard the offer he said:


Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to fight!

Raise your spears to the sky

Sword and shield grasped tight!

Eyes full of Fire

Magh Nia, ready and willing to die!

King Eochaid's Fall


With the spear to his heart

And the wind in his hair,

Bres showed the spear

To the Men of Dea, and he told them

Of the Firbolg warrior Sreng.

To Connacht they did march,

Preparing battlements for war,

Passing the mountain Belgata

To arrive at the field of battle,

At Magh Nia.


The Trinity of the Tuatha,

Badb, Macha and Anann,

Arrived at Temhair

Where the Firbolgs did rest.

They cast a mist dark and deep

And summoned showers

Of fire and blood!

The Firbolg's engulfed in flame,

Unable to see, unable to speak.


Eleven battalions of the Firbolgs

Marched and stood defiant

On the East,

Nuada sent Eochaid the offer,

Eochaid refused,

He would not show defeat.

The war was delayed,

By a quarter of a year,

Armour, swords and spears ready

Until the day of battle came.


From both sides, three times nine hurlers

Entered the battle but they will die.

Four days passed, warriors did fall

And on that day the tide was turned.

The Men of Dea rose up, and fell

On the Firbolgs like rain on the Earth.

Eochaid went for a drink,

His men not by his side,

But the Tuatha not far behind.

To the Strand they did go,

Nuada's Sons fought the King,

Dragging him into the sea,

Daggers endlessly piercing!


Leaving a heap of stones where he died,

The dead king now watches the sea.

A victory for the Tuatha.

This was the battle of Magh Tuiread.




During the fray of battle,

Nuada did lose his arm,

Cut off by the mighty Sreng.

For the law of the Tuatha,

That no man would be king

Armless and beaten lost to his kin.

The kingship now left for another to rise.

The Sun blasts light

Over mountains and skies,

Banners in the distance,

The High Men gather,

A legacy for a new king.

Spears to the sky, the Lia Fail screams

New king arise, lead and guide!

The Chosen of the land,

Bres was his name,

He lacked wisdom and knowledge,

His rule brought shame.

The Fomorians put a burden on his people,

By the leadership of the tyrant.

Their army was vast and feared by many,

The Tuatha stood defiant.

Taxes did bestow them,

Bres failed them as a king.

A debt on their cattle,

How did this fate begin?

Hated by the Tuatha,

His halls empty and cold.

No singers, dancers or music,

No tales would be told.

At a point during his rule,

Cridenbel was met

An old wretch of a man

And this is how this tale began.

Cridenbel did steal from

The Dagda’s plate,

Three pieces was the price,

Weak and starving

The Dagda suffered the worst.

But his son he did see,

A plan was made to feed

The old man gold,

Three pieces was the price.

The deed was done, the old man died.

Three pieces took his life.

Bres gave orders for the Dagda,

He went to the king,

Cridenbel was opened.

Gold lay within! Truth rings!

Bres forever would have no good luck,

Only failure, only Shame.

Forever, forever!

Nuada of the Silver Arm


In the midst of that great battle, Nuada did loose his arm,

War cries in the deep,

Bodies at his feet,

The air thick loud and deafening

Steel through bone, fighting till death.

He rose between the valleys,

Let out his battle cry.

A great sickness, claimed the king.

Diancecht forge me a new arm!

The smith started to plan,

Lighting the fires once more.


Forging the Silver Arm,

In the great fires of Temhair

Sparks and embers ignite.

The clash of the Hammer on Steel,

The Arm rising from the flames,

The High King reborn,

The High King now whole.


Nuada Silver Arm, Nuada Airgead Lamh!

Nuada Silver Arm, Nuada Airgead Lamh!


Nuada returned to the Tuatha,

At the great halls of Temhair,

Now whole, he could claim

Back the throne.

Once again High King.

Anger possessed Bres,

He went to Eri for guidance.

Seek your father,

A ring of gold, Bres did claim.

They left on a silver vessel,

To the lands of the Fomor and their king,

Upon reaching Fomorian shores,

Elathan met his son Bres,

And he sent him to meet

Balor of the Evil Eye!


Nuada Silver Arm, Nuada Airgead Lamh!

Nuada Silver Arm, Nuada Airgead Lamh!


Second Battle Of Magh Tuireadh


As the sun shone on the day of battle,

The Men of Dea rose up,

Nuada and Lugh on the horizon

Sending their armies to war.


And still they march on,

To protect their homes

Spears and shields by their sides.

The Battle was frantic,

Many were lost,

The King Nuada did fall.

Lugh flew through the air

with his spear Gael Bolga held tight.

The horns of battle bellowing,

Uniting the screams from both sides.

A river of blood in its wake

The Men Of Dea went forth

To crush their enemies,

The Fomorian horde.


Uaithne : The Dagda's Harp


At Battles end…

Dagda searched for his harp

Uaitne was its name!

A gift from the past,

They went to a great hall

Where Bres did reside.

Only he could make it sing,

Make it sound by his call.


Inside he calls his harp,

And at the sound of his voice

Flew from the wall to his arms,

Killing nine men on its way.

Three songs he cast upon them,

Three tunes to silence them all.

As the harp rang out,

The magic was cast.


First tune brought fits of laughter,

The second tune, a sea of despair,

The last brought a deadly sleep,

Never to wake again!


Copyright ©Celtachor