Legend

Sad as the howling of the wind,
Fierce as the roaring of the sea,
Stern as the rock that is the land,
These irish tales forever stand,
As cold and harsh as wind and sea,
Dark yarns of pride and destiny.

Near the Castle of Brynn Mawhr,
That ruined stead of noble kings,
Once lived a maiden young and fair,
Her eyes as green as yonder tree,
Her locks a crown of sunset gold,
Thus in this ancient tale is told.

The king was far and far his knights,
Long gone the kingly might of yore.
The land was plundered by a foe
Of nordic race, most evil brute,
Who cruelly ravished Erin's shore
Near the Castle of Brynn Mawhr.

Butchered, burned the village where
This maiden lived in peaceful bliss.
Her parents slain by devil's hand,
Towards the highest rock she ran,
Pursuèd by the murderous clan,
Until she stood at the abyss
And she could flee no more.

The wicked captain raised a hand
Towards this fairest of the land.
She sang a song with golden voice
And spoke a word that was not heard
Upon that coast for thousand years.
Then leapt to death amidst her tears
To be the bride of cliff and sea,
Their bride she will forever be.

The fate of those who dared to lust
Upon that fairest of the land
Was never told to mortals' ears.
But in the waves that pound the shore
Can still be heard the magic word,
Can still be heard that song of yore:
The Maiden of Brynn Mawhr.