Towards an empty land we sailed
Nemed, our father, led the way
Towards the home of the brave and free

Towards our isle of destiny

We raised two forts and cleared twelve plains

We worked the land and claimed our place
Four lakes burst up out of the ground
We sacrificed on sacred mounds


But gods envy the delights of men!


A terrible evil swarmed ashore
And with them came disease and war
Their runed flesh was foul and black

In battle their two kings were met

Three thousand Nemedians fell that day

A pillar of stone was raised for each man slain
Three thousand pillars on the plain
Nemed himself soon died of plague

Two thirds of all we had, they claimed
One last $$#ault on Conand's tower
One final attempt to end the terror


Through mists of time
Sound bloody chimes

Of clashing shields
Of arrows soaring
Of battle-horns

And stones roaring

Score sixty thousand fought that day

Conand and his heirs were slain
The Fomorian tower of strength lay waste
More pillars on the plains were raised


Yet Morc returned from across the waves
Countless demons retaliate

On rhythms of rage he wrote our fate
Thirty Nemedians survived that day


In utter defeat we sailed away
Leaving behind our sacred ground
Where naught of us remained...

But battle-pillars on the plains