Where Thunder Meets Emerald

The storm is awake, it roars through the night,
An anthem of warriors, hearts fierce and alight.
With steel in our veins and the earth 'neath our feet,
The rhythm ignites where the ancient path' meet.

Down in the glen where the drunkards are splayed,
We drink, we fight, we jig 'til the day—
Our pipes howl loud, and our fiddles scream—
A tempest of chaos and shattered bad dreams...

O' down in the glen where the drunkards are splayed,
We drink, we fight, we jig 'til the day—
Our pipes howl loud, and our fiddles scream—
A tempest of chaos and shattered bad dreams...

Dance to the madness, the jig of the damned,
Where thunder meets emerald, a wild, reckless band.
With blood on the fiddle and our fate in our hands,
We're bound to the rhythms, and to these Irish lands.

We march on the edge, where the cliffs meet the sea,
The winds howl a dirge for us wild and free.
The banshee wails as the storm clouds rise,
A dance of defiance in midnight's skies...

O' down in the glen where the drunkards are splayed,
We drink, we fight, we jig 'til the day—
Our pipes howl loud, and our fiddles scream,
A tempest of chaos and shattered bad dreams. (Hey!)

We march on the edge, where the cliffs meet the sea,
The winds howl a dirge for us wild and free.
The banshee wails as the storm clouds rise,
A dance of defiance in midnight's skies...
O' dance of defiance in midnight's skies.

Dance to the madness, the jig of the damned,
Where thunder meets emerald, a wild, reckless band.
With blood on the fiddle and our fate in our hands,
We're bound to the rhythms, and to these Irish lands.

O' dance to them ashes, the wheel turns the grain,
Yet when we dance through the fire, they call us insane.
The harp strings echo through valleys and glens,
The souls of the Irish will never keck or bend...
The souls of the Irish will never keck or bend!

The jig may fade away, but its spirit still runs wild,
It dances thru the night, with the soul of the Isle.