by: Grant Lee Phillips

Bid Goddess rise, from mist of memory
Rise, the fair Cathain
In battle the equal of every man
And every love disdained
Her heart was locked in a roundtower's keep
And none that gate could unbar
Till rose a prince in Ulster's east
His name was Conchobar

By day she taught him the feats of arms
With sword and mace and bow
By night they kindled passions fire
That only lovers know
So King and warrior thus were joined
In battles, blood, and love
The throne belonged to Conchobar
To Cathain, the Witch's Glove

Dark rivals rose against the king
To challenge for his throne
All Ulster in the balance hung
Without its champion
A Druid he sent to sacrifice
An offering to Cathain
A maiden fair, with flaxen hair
Not once, but two times slain

But Cathain, she would ne'r return
To fight the kingdom's war
Till the Druid did a virgin bring
To Connemara far
The fair Iona pure and sweet
Upon the south sea table lain
And by the corclach's hungry stone
The innocent was slain
(Was Cathain's own daughter slain)

In rage the warrior goddess
From the western sea arose
Her bloody gauntlet dealt that day
a thousand fierce death-blows
The kingdom saved, her quest complete
she sank beneath the waves
Till Ulster's sons with sacrifice
Bid her return once more.