Thunder Rising (B)
Gary Moore
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They looked up from the fortress on the hill
The king, the saint, the warrior
Returning from the kill
The spoils of war hung from his horse's mane
The bloody heads of enemies
That he had freshly slain
They saw the face, the eyes so sullen
Could only be the young Cu Chulainn
Thunder rising
Thunder rising
Thunder rising early in the morning
Cities burning
The world keeps turning
Thunder rising early in the morning
The son of Lugh Mac Ethlin knew no fear
For just one blow and any foe
Could tell his end was near
So many tried to mock this Celtic son
They taunted and they teased him
Till he'd slain them one by one
And so they came and so they're fallen
At the hands of young Cu Chulainn
Thunder rising
Thunder rising
Thunder rising early in the morning
Cities burning
The world keeps turning
Thunder rising early in the morning
Long ago the legend has it
Of the mighty Ulster man
Battles with the king of Connacht
Fighting to the bitter end
No one knew what foolish reason
Caused the skirmish to begin
Was it treachery or treason
Or just the idle guts of drunken men?
Thunder rising
Thunder rising
Thunder rising early in the morning
Cities burning
The world keeps turning
Thunder rising early in the morning
Thunder rising
Thunder rising
Thunder rising early in the morning
Young men are dying
The widows are crying
Thunder rising early in the morning