Olde Throne - An Gorta Mór [Full Album 2022]

Lyrics to An Gorta Mór [Full Album 2022] by Olde Throne

Tracklist: 01. an Gorta Mór (Part I) The darkest hour, where fields reap blight the endless hunger, and blackened skies a land of rot, where children wither and mother’s weep, a countless sorrow Hearts grow faint and hope decays the failure of a God The plough drags on the bones of the fallen, the blood seeps to the soil of poison. scorned wretches of what used to be human, pale faces in a shroud of torment. A vulgar curse, on blackened shores a time for death, to claim what’s hers diseased and starved, a brewing corpse left for dead, on farms of ash The stench of decay abandoning faith Hunger spreads to the edge of the isle, disease rampant and the rations vile. walking corpses their souls are abandoned, by a god that leaves children in famine. the island rots while the people starve, the crows feast on the Holocaust of celts. ashes fall on the hopeless soil, removing families from this mortal coil. 02. Knockdoe Knockdoe! the slaughter field a bloodied sky where Gaels die upon the hill the hill of axes armies stand united clans Gallowglass axe in hand charging forth through arrow’s rain Armies clash hellish screams tearing flesh countless death Now the cairns are stacked high upon the hill now the land has changed gone the gaelic age Now the old ways die and gods fall the heel now the days turn grey gone the way of celts 03. Children of Lir Upon the lake Under light of moon The swans sing Songs of great sorrow Restless they wait For the curse to end Innocent Condemned to exile Cast out On their own With no place To call home Cursed hand The witch had played 900 years Doomed to wait As the nights Grow more cold Still they roam With hope they shiver With human voice They wail at night Through lonely centuries All friends have died Discarded Left to roam The lonely lands Year after year Wandering With no return To the hall of gods Til the bell is rung And in the end A new god comes To the Celtic lands And the old gods fall Baptised By a holy man They return to form Withered they die 04. Connla’s Fate Connla, child of Cuchulain Born to Aoife, of beauty and steel Spawned from battle, his cruel fate awaits From the land of Gods, Connla made haste. Down to Ulster, Where his father awaits. Cursed with gaesa, three which were laid When his journey begins, never shall he return No challenge shall be refused, to no man shall he give his true name When connla refused To give the king his name Many warriors were sent To force Connla’s hand Cuchulain was called To see to this young man But still he refused To give his true name And so the spears were called And mightily they clashed But Connla gave way And fell to his fate So began Cuchulain‘s great lament He cursed Aoife’s name And went to the waves The Ulster men were called To say their farewells And Connla was laid to rest Killed by his father’s hand 05. A Dying Land There is a fading light Upon the valleys and rivers A whisper of hope A desperate plea of life Beneath a falling sky Upon great mountains of old A soil of rot And a land of blight Cut down in the land we call home Starved and left to die here alone Hunger thrives in the absence of hope Death waits upon these shores - A dying land There is an absence of life And the gravestones grow Farmers reap empty fields And only the crows feast Even kings rot on their thrones And many sleep to never awake Kingdoms fall to the will of dirt Nature brings all to heel - A dying land This is our home We die alone The sun turns black And the fields don’t grow - A dying land 06. Celtic Sorrow Never ends The tales of loss Always still Death is near Kingdoms grow Then fall to dust Sweeping snow Beats on stone And still it holds The endless sorrow I lie in wait For the pain to end I scour the fields Where my kin lay dead I watch the stars And see them fade I roam the forest And speak with ghosts How celts have suffered And known no less In the black of night Even sirens cry In the halls of kings Our heroes rest Upon shadowed lands The old ones roam And still it holds The promise of death And all they know Celtic sorrow 07. an Gorta Mór (Part II) Still it lingers, the stench of famine And the sorrow of celts remains A land in ruin, cut down from the blight And the weight of guilt to have lived Ashamed of life, devoid of hope We walk alone on scattered bones Our fallen kin, with stolen souls Dead and nameless they lay an Gorta Mór Robbed of life A great unrest Buried by time an Gorta Mór A tainted land A world turned black In rotting fields an Gorta Mòr an Gorta Mòr