The Fianna - Cruachan

When evening in Eireann was gray

Before the dawn went away

Their footsteps on hills were heard

On journey long without a word

From wilderland to western shore

Through dragon lair and hidden door

From northern waste to southern hill

On darkling woods they walked at will

With Fionn and Oisin, dwarfe and man

Bird and bough and beast in den

With warrior-druid folk

In secret tongues they spoke

A deadly sword, a healing hand

Trumpet voice, a burning brand

Their backs that bent 'neath their load

Those warriors on the road