Friday, 28 March 2008

Tara oh Tara!

Tara oh Tara
Seat of ancient Kings
Tara oh Tara
Of your majesty still
I sing
Resonating songs
In your Hall of Old
Your Trumpets fanfare
Is blasting bold
Calling at hour of need
To any and all
To be here with us now
To awake these sleeping Halls

Tara oh Tara
Upon you they feed
Scarring you marring you
With mechanised motives of greed
Whose corporate wormtongues
Speak so clever
To make you believe
That it is all for some great worth
Progress of development that destroys
Is the creed of that clanking knight
But his shining armour is redolent with shyte

The detritus of tarmac carbon monoxide
Light pollution roadside services
And factories
Of the inevitable appearance
Of satellite towns and low frequency
Ever audible rumble of road rage
No escape from the noise or petrol haze

Once strategic, now
Spiritual eye of Eire
We cannot let your splendour
Be marred and die
It cannot be your link trans-life to land
With noble craft and tale of the folk
From these subtle worlds between here
And there
Be destroyed
and finally forgotten

Up on Tara Hill
The fey walk still
By machines throb awoken
A long silence has been broken
And at this last ditch moment
Who will come to the pitch?
Who will delight
To join with Lugh’s light?
Who will come to Tara
Who will heed that trumpet and song?
The moment has opened
For we now evoke
Your Finian Warriors
From words so spoken

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