 The Yew trees are gone my son, In the Valley of the Storms The Isle of War has harvested them all that It may sling up Kings to the Sky The egos of man have burnt them all so that none may walk among their swaying grace. The Mountains sing an echoes song, Their Core has been taken to strenghen arm of man Men have spilled blood over that which cannot be owned Endless days of charge and blood , that they may be the first To walk the land they did desecrate A new breed is borne to the Earth my son Born of history, Born by her will Remember the Goddess they do, and remember her law of love The Yew trees will be again my son, In the Valley of the Storms The Islemen have harvested but they cannot erase The peaks will whistle once again, when the Wind agains sees joy For They have come again my son, The Tuatha de Danann They've come to teach us all their ways, as we agreed to learn The world will be as it once was That children may walk it in peace October 19, 2000
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