The stars, they are falling. O gran'ma, they're falling. Sweet night, calm night, but they are falling. Make a wish, O son of mine. Make a wish, upon every line. Every star, my star, order in divine. Wonderous it was, a quiet night in moans. Nothing but whispers, of the air and the stones. Past glories, sad stories, for the lively and the bones. She said I wish, if you can't make a wish. I wish she said, you to know a wish. High or low, friend and foe, just be what you wish. Marbhna croí, O gran'ma beside your bed. Marbhna croí, beside the stone and the head. Conquer I did, wished as you said, but the stars, O gran'ma, are still falling... *Marbhna Croí: lament of a heart. |