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 assault 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