Intro: EmDACBmEmEmGAm
The host is riding from Knocknarea
CDEm
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;
GAm
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
CDEm
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
FEmAm
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.
FEmAm
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,
FGAm
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,
FGA
Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are agleam,
DAm
Our arms are waving, out lips are apart;
DAm
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
DAm
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
CDEm
We come between him and the hope of his heart.
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,
And where is there hope or deed as fair?
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,
And Niamh calling Away, come away.
And if any gaze on our rushing band,
We come between him and the deed of his hand,
We come between him and the hope of his heart.