The Last Days of Lugh

Cast your mind back to God knows when, You go back a way and back again, Place yourself on a Cooley shore, As we watch unfold a tale of yore....

Tá scéal agam duit. Ó Chontae Lú. Téigh siar i d'aigne Siar i do chroí.

Morning Camp

A campsite full of young and old, On a winter morning fresh and cold. All are glad to be out again After days in huts and days of rain. The crackling of the morning fire, The children's spirits rising higher, Lugh looks out with an eager smile. Today they can forage far and wide. All gather round to greet old Lugh. A quiet friend always brave and true. The children awe his strength and size, While women fuss with his coat and ties. A few handfuls of nuts and fish, A meagre meal from a wooden dish. With stick and hat, arrows and bow, Lugh and the children get up and go. 'Don't let the small ones get too cold. Don't let the big ones become too bold. Take it easy Lugh and keep warm. Bring back wood and stay away from harm.' Lugh understands the women's care, But knows of no reason to be 'ware. He waits for all their calls to stop, Then crosses the stream with a low hop.

Gleo na Maidine

Fuacht an Gheimhridh, bíonn sí cruaidh, Ach éist le sceith na leanaí Mná is paistí, óg is aosta. Cách ceangailte le chéile. Féach lasracha na tine móire Iad ag damhsa leis na naíon Amach as a phuball tagann Lugh 'Tá sé in am dúinn siúil.' Fáilte chuige ó gach duine ann Ag gleasú an chreatúir bhoicht Ionadh 'gus uraim, os a gcomhair Seanfhear cróga, láidir, dócht. Ocras na maidine, neart le fáil. Béile beag, de iasc is chnó. Sean Lugh ar thóir na leanaí óga. Hata, maide, saigheada, bogh. 'Tóg go bog é, agus sibh amuigh. Diúltaigh baol san fhuacht, ar nGrá. Teagaigí ar ais go slán chugainn Bailigh adhmaid ar an trá.' Tosach bríomhar gan eagla ar bith Tá súil ghéar ag Lugh do gach. An ghaoth ag canadh, imní na mban Agus é ag siúil thar sruth.

Song of the Women

Sing the song of mighty Lugh Silent hunter of the reeds Eye to all things in the sky Ear to everything that moves Chorus 'Slayer of the great wolf Con Stalker of the old boar Bru Rock of Slieve Foye, brave and strong Lugh the steadfast, always young.' Chorus Spirit of the great elk deer Wisdom of the paths and streams Calm of moon tide, deep and full A life time of mighty deeds Chorus Mind our children as they go Give them know-how from your hands Dream of summers, now long gone Ancient leader of our clan. Chorus 'Slayer of the great wolf Con Stalker of the old boar Bru Rock of Slieve Foye, brave and strong Lugh the steadfast, always young'

Amhrán na mBan

Seo amhrán daoibh faoi eachtraí Lugh. Ag faire an tráth, oíche is lae An lacha mhíogach istigh sa riasc Caoilte, gasta, foighneach, críonna, saoi. Curfá 'Seas sé i gcoinne Trean-Brú an Torc 'Sea Lugh a mharaigh an fáelchú Conn Carraig seasta duinn ar Sléibhte Feá Lugh na Coillte, laoch, crógach, ciúin.' Curfá Eolach ar gach lúib is fréamh Anam chara leis an fia fiáin Doimhneacht an fharraige mór Saol iontach eachtach sástacht lán Curfá Buíochas leat, a Lugh, mo churadh géar Bí cúramach, agus tóg do scíth Ag roinnt eagna leis na paistí óga. Smaoinigh siar ar luach do shaoil Curfá 'Seas sé i gcoinne Trean-Brú an Torc 'Sea Lugh a mharaigh an fáelchú Conn Carraig seasta duinn ar Sléibhte Feá Lugh na Coillte, laoch, crógach, ciúin.'

On the Beach

A swirling wildness, windswept and cold, Chases the children down the beach. Lugh's heavy bones ache with every step, His huge chest heaving as he breathes. Lugh's bow and stick go to Eth and Nith, Who search the sand dunes all the time, While the girls Leigh and Lon laugh and cry, At games of throwing seaweed slime. Meth the lone one searches in the pools, Giant to the creatures all around. Wee Cian carries wood away from camp. Lith makes him put the branches down. Young and old are very much alive, Chilled by the east wind to the bone. The dull moan as the ebbing tide turns, Makes their tired legs long for home.

Ar an Trá

Is breá an rud a bheith beo. Lugh, ar thóir a anála. Iad i dtáimhnéal ag an ngaoth, Á síobadh leanaí óga Eth ag fiach le bogha draí, 'S tá maide Lugh ag Nith. Troid mór ag Leigh agus Lon, Súgradh acu sna slobáin. Tá Meth sna locháin beaga É fathach ard na faoiscí. Úalach maidí ag Cian óg. Chas Lith é i dtreó eile. Áthas chroí is buíochas dí, Is gach rud trína chéile. Tuirse casadh na taoide. Am dúinn dul abhaile.