Diarmuid Dubh and Fionan Leigh

This could be a tragic Celtic legend...

They lived in a castle high on a hill,

Far above the thundering sea.

One brother dark and one brother fair,

Diarmuid Dubh and Fionan Leigh.

And no one could ride like Fionan could ride

And no one could hunt with the falcon and bow

And they valued him highly in dancing and fighting

And Diarmuid low.

And when the moon shone high above the hill

And the tide rushed in with might,

In the castle Fionan was dancing and laughing

Diarmuid stared into the night.

And no one gave thought what he felt, what he sought,

What shame and what pain he endured constantly,

And they danced and they played and a judgement was laid

On Fionan Leigh.

Once more the brothers rode out to hunt

On a glorious morning in clouds of foam,

But there was no glory when at night they came

Carrying the fair prince home.

How still did he lie: would he live? would he die?

In a silence unlike him ever before,

And Diarmuid looked on, and he knew he had won

What he longed for.

Time in the castle high above the sea

Was measured as waves rolled in.

In the hall was crowned a new ruler to be,

While a candle flickered unseen.

No one spoke again of the wreck of a man

That lived and that stared and that no one would ken,

They accepted the new and they paid what was due

To Diarmuid Dubh.

Once in the castle high above the sea

He stood on the wall when tide was low.

There was no sound of dancing and revelry.

The sea sang rue and woe.

And no one was near when he fought down his fear

And the thundering and foaming was all he could hear.

And he stepped in the air. In his arms he did carry

Fionan fair.

Crystal 29/08/2002