Fate of the beaten
MelwosiaAll people have dressed their feast clothes
Several children run before me
Millions of colours fill my eyes
But my senses are worn
Weariness and hardship have gashed them
I feel the burning sun on my neck
And the rope around my wrists
" Forward" the druid says,
Pressing its dagger on my back
Stones are wounding my feet
But I speed up my pace
The forest around me is full of life
A light breeze sways the branches
I hear some crackling and scratching
Caused by inquiring animals
But they quickly turn away
And the silence falls
A smell is given off from me
The fragrance of death
" Forward" the druid says,
Pressing its dagger on my back
The mud stains my feet
But I speed up my pace
The path we are following
Plunge into the thick forest
I feel the burden
Of invisible eyes
Druids and prisoners
Form a strange single file
Slowly moving towards
The glade of the forest of gods
All is covered of dried blood
The glad is scattered with old bones
Some corpses hang down from trees
A disturbing song resounds
An hypnotising threnody
The druids recite the call of sacrifice
We're forced to knell on the grass
Waiting to be chosen
A huge blaze is lighted
The warmth becomes severe
Is it my destiny to burn alive?
Four young Celtic warriors
Make their appearance
And walk towards us
We're forced to knell on the grass
Waiting to be chosen
Suddenly they begin to run
And pass before us without a glance
They jump in the heart of the blaze
Screaming the name of their god
A druid burst out laughing
" You deserve not the blaze
It's a reward for the great warriors
You, beaten, will have another fate"
Suddenly hands seize my head
And press it on the ground
I see a silvery glint
And my head leaves my body
The gods must be thanked
The battle has been won
The axes strike again and again
The heads of the beaten roll
The air resounds with songs and cheers
All people have dressed their feast clothes
Severed heads strew the grass
Litres of blood cover the ground
Men, women and children
Join in the druid's song
The barbarous chorus
Drowns the moans
The gods must be thanked
The battle has been won
The axes strike again and again
The heads of the beaten roll
Morrigan, Morrigan
You let us crush our enemy
Morrigan, Morrigan
Take and drink their blood