Lament For The Old Days

Poem By Taher Shemaly

Where are the men
of height and core
The heroes that were
mentioned in the lore
Great is the sorrow
upon my heart and core
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Where are the kings
that stood before
Where are the queens
with hearts of sore
Slept in lands of dark
just to see them no more
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

A priest of old days
had foretold to me
That upon the throne
one day I have to be
But queen of hearts
I am not to see
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Oh how large it is
the chair made of gold
Of finest wood and ore
it was made so bold
But to live there
means to have life so cold
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Although to poverity
I was bound to indeed
Palaces never meant
for me nothing but as weed
Now my old days went away
just as snow driven by heat
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Where are the laughters now
that shone their faces around me
Where are the healers now
that mended the heart of me
Crying I vowed to be now
as long as there's life in me
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Height and fame are
grains spread by winds ashore
Thrones and lands are
to my heart been so sore
Carry me to my hut now
let me be as I was before
'S siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

Let them back to me
them of sweetest manners
Let them seen by me
them of highest banners
Let them back to me
them of richest suppers
Siúil liom mo chroí
there's no where to go

My crying and dropped tears
carried across the breeze of heart
My grief and painful fears
carried within my chest cage so hard
My old days of olden youth
once will be sang by a bard
'S bíonn liomsa mo chroí
there's no where to go

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