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Mahda Righ, lass of my eye, oh she was so fair be it wet or dry under Irish skies we'd dance like sidhe oh, I and she by and by till the dawn. Mahda, m'banrion, ma fionn, the beauty of the lochs; we were joined under branch by such as the Draoi oh, I and she blessed by the breitheamh of my father's tuath. I left my Mahda home with child as the English armies rose and the aos dana gathered us my flaithi and I to ring in the foggy dew... i took my broken sword and stumbled blindly home slipping in the blood of english and irish, mixing in the morning amongst the foggy dew... i raised my eyes to Fodla's skies with the sun bless't sweet Eriu under lightening sky watching hundreds die in the pale light of the foggy dew... my whistling pipe stopped suddenly as i watched the smoke drift to the sky and my heart dropped to my knees as I drew my broken sword. i cleared the hill finding smoking ruins where my town once stood dropping sword, I ran blindly home... that greasy flame did erase the name where wandring heart did crave but all that resides under Banba's eyes is my lovely Mahda's grave and through the glen i rode again and my heart went grieving to `twas their turn to die `neath the Irish sky and we fought like men of lore my grave is a hill over Inish Fail brushed when winds blow through for i savour regret over glorious death when I fell in the foggy dew... © June 25, 1996, h e a t h . h o u s t o n |