The Sesair dogs of Tir-nan-og have stalked me to enslave
And rampant in the hybrid hills amidst the cattle raid
The Ulstermen will kneel before the heathen path I've paved
And bards of mighty Conchobar will offer me to Maeve
Through Sourlands in bloody bands across the north they go
Brave Conner Mac his tribes are painted blue from head to toe
But all alone the Infidel did match them blow for blow
His body bent and hair in spikes came flailing to and fro
The carnage lingered on, his body split from side to side
The tendons tore his mighty chest and ripped his leathered hide
Across his back ten Ulstermen were carried from the lake

And soon there were ten sundered heads each thrust upon a stake
The battle-rage had gripped him as he squirmed inside his skin
One eye had popped out of his head the other sucked back in
Soon pieces of Brave Conner Mac and friends adorned the ground
It took three tubs of ice to cool his burning body down
Setanta of the Sesair was the chosen king by birth
The power he possesses is a gift from mother earth
Through chronicles of time he'll rise again and spread his fame
And future incarnations will arise to bear his name
The Sourlands are bitter and the northern tribes are free
In Tir-nan-og a new abandoned kingdom waits for me
The message of the fallen king is swift across the land
To Ulster where a widowed Queen prepares to take my hand