Towards an empty land we sailed Nemed, our father, led the way Towards the home of the brave and free Towards our isle of destiny We raised two forts and cleared twelve plains We worked the land and claimed our place Four lakes burst up out of the ground We sacrificed on sacred mounds But gods envy the delights of men! A terrible evil swarmed ashore And with them came disease and war Their runed flesh was foul and black In battle their two kings were met Three thousand Nemedians fell that day A pillar of stone was raised for each man slain Three thousand pillars on the plain Nemed himself soon died of plague Two thirds of all we had, they claimed One last assault on Conand's tower One final attempt to end the terror Through mists of time Sound bloody chimes Of clashing shields Of arrows soaring Of battle-horns And stones roaring Score sixty thousand fought that day Conand and his heirs were slain The Fomorian tower of strength lay waste More pillars on the plains were raised Yet Morc returned from across the waves Countless demons retaliate On rhythms of rage he wrote our fate Thirty Nemedians survived that day In utter defeat we sailed away Leaving behind our sacred ground Where naught of us remained... But battle-pillars on the plains