Oh gods! Our chieftain has died
and the sky cries blood.
Our chieftain has died
and the Nord-West tribes revolt.
Breogán's descendants, unite in the conquest, for the honor of our land.
Breogán's descendants, push out the enemy, as aforetime.
Finished the threat, and after the war,
it's time to expand our kingdom.
Protect our beliefs, protect our mores,
honoring our ancestors.
Across the sea to the great Ireland, sound the drums of war.
Warriors are ready for battle, the landing is close.
Ready to die, the Goidel already here, revenge is all what they want!
Swords raised again, with the blessing of the gods,
marching to victory!
We fight, we beat, got the glory.

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