A brave, savage man downed on the plain
From a war not his own he is slain
I reach out to the stone
Sense his blood and his bone
It's as if there is life again
The wind whispers past with stories esteemed
Of an army cut down to it's knees
A war cry is roared
"Men raise your swords!"
And it's off to racan in the trees
Knelt at the mound of those lost to might
A people primed for a fight
With eyes closed see the dead
Staining the fields red
The enemy snuffed out the light
So beat yer bodhran for the erstwhile
For the lonely, fatherless child
Raise a glass to the pain
For those lost in vain
And to a legacy violent and wild
Photo credit: Kariann Rice
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