The Brave and Bonny Host
By Roger the Geliard
Oh, see how the mist lies over the field
The morning of battle is come
Soft in the glen there’s the muffled sound of men
And the murmur of a battle drum
Fill our cups with ale or wine or beer
We will stand together never fear
And we’ll drink down a toast to the brave and bonny host
That fights for the banner of An Tir.
Now the light of the sun spreads over the hill
It scatters the mist from the green
And there in the clear come the warriors of An Tir
Their black and golden banner can be seen
O, see them advance as a wall of steel
Each man with his sword and his shield
Now they charge with a cheer, for the honor of An Tir
To win or to die upon the field
By many a fire there’s a lady fair
Who waits for her love to return
Her needle’s in her threads, or she’s baking of the breads
And dreaming of the touch for which she yearns.
To the crest of the hill fight the brave and the bold
Where the slain thickly lie on the field
Now, alone in the clear, stand the warriors of An Tir
And the foeman at last is forced to yield.
O, strike up your lute, all ye minstrels
Whose skill is renowned far and wide
Come tell us again of the mighty band of men
Who carried the battle for our side.