Black id the Morrigan on this plain

Dark is her aspect, no remorse or shame

Washer at the ford for those who can see

The crone and the hag, goddess trinity.

Goddess of war, denizen of death

Seeker of souls,

She awaits your last breath...

Nightmare visions, choked with the bodies of the slain

Rivers run red, ravens alight on mounds of lifeless forms

Feasting horribly on carrion and broken bones,

Once proud men, someone's sons and brothers all.

Where now is the glory in your war

No glory in your war

No glory in the grave

Hear the shriek of the Morrigan

As she circles preparing to dine,

To dine upon the slaughtered souls

To feast on fresh dead flesh

Triumphant scream of ecstasy

Exultant in the misery

Wallow in the pain

Putrid stench of entrails and emptied bowels

Morrigan's minions glut on unseeing eyes

A picture painted in detail so obscene

Morrigan greets all those souls who die.

Eternal war she craves

Battles unceasing

Combatants increasing

Sweet stench of blood on the wind

Dishevelled warriors, expressions grotesque

Dismembered bodies, expressions grotesque

Her in her glory, goddess of war

Her in her glory, Morrigan's domain.