CúChulainn​.​.​.​Tale of an Irish Warrior

by A Ting a Beauty

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about

This is a concept album...so a lot of tracks bleed into the next...the continuity of which can be lost listening to just one track.
I dedicate this to my sons...Arkady and Anraí.

credits

released February 5, 2017

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A Ting a Beauty Seattle, Washington

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Track Name: Warrior, The Boys of Ballisodare
They took him from his village
When he was just a boy
They brought him to a foreign land
Where killing was a joy
They trained him hard, they taught him well
A fighter he became
And soon the world at war would know
CúChulaínn was his name....
Chorus:
And he will fight for your freedom
He'll fight for your cause
He'll fight for your liberties
He'll fight all your wars
And he'll fight, in distant lands
Far away from home
And if we all stand together
He will never fight alone

The greatest warrior e're there was
In battle ne'er did fall
His captors one night as they slept
He slaughtered one'n all
And so began his journey
His primal quest for home
And many battles would be fought
On lands he'd surely roam

Chorus.

Reel: The Boys of Ballisodare
Track Name: Stand Behind the Warrior
This is a very old traditional Irish song...made famous by Planxty in 1972...originally called...'Follow me up to Carlow'.
I've re-written the chorus to follow the plot/storyline of the album.

Lift MacCahir Óg your face, you're brooding o'er the old disgrace
That black FitzWilliam stormed your place, he drove you to the Fern
Grey said victory was sure, soon the firebrand he'd secure
Until he met at Glenmalure with Fiach MacHugh O'Byrne

CHORUS
Up with shields out with swords
We'll overthrow the overlord
Fiach MacHugh he's given the word
Stand behind the Warrior
Be aware people dare
The Warrior slays without a care
The smell of death is in the air
Stand behind the Warrior

See the swords of Glen Imaal, flashing o'er the English Pale
See all the children of the Gael, beneath O'Byrne's banners
Rooster of a fighting stock, would you let a Sassenach cock
Crow out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners

CHORUS

From Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore
And great is Rory Óg O'More, at sending the Brits (loons) to Hades
White is sick and Grey is fled, now for black FitzWilliam's head
We'll send it over dripping red, to Queen Liza and the ladies

CHORUS x 2