The Sesair dogs of Tir-nan-og have stalked me to enslave And rampant in the hybrid hills amidst the cattle raid The Ulstermen will kneel before the heathen path I've paved And bards of mighty Conchobar will offer me to Maeve Through Sourlands in bloody bands across the north they go Brave Conner Mac his tribes are painted blue from head to toe But all alone the Infidel did match them blow for blow His body bent and hair in spikes came flailing to and fro The carnage lingered on, his body split from side to side The tendons tore his mighty chest and ripped his leathered hide Across his back ten Ulstermen were carried from the lake And soon there were ten sundered heads each thrust upon a stake The battle-rage had gripped him as he squirmed inside his skin One eye had popped out of his head the other sucked back in Soon pieces of Brave Conner Mac and friends adorned the ground It took three tubs of ice to cool his burning body down Setanta of the Sesair was the chosen king by birth The power he possesses is a gift from mother earth Through chronicles of time he'll rise again and spread his fame And future incarnations will arise to bear his name The Sourlands are bitter and the northern tribes are free In Tir-nan-og a new abandoned kingdom waits for me The message of the fallen king is swift across the land To Ulster where a widowed Queen prepares to take my hand