Awake, proud Cuchulainn, From thy deep dark slumber, Hear the sounds of war-horns And of swords that are shattering Awake, proud Cuchulainn, Haste thee to the battle, Hear Aoife's war-cries echoing And the swords that she's shattering
Wielding mighty Dacian steel, She stands victorious on the battlefield No hero, nor Scáthach herself Could ever hope to make her yield
For on this day, so many years ago, It happened that her prince was slain Driving his chariot and swinging his sword, Now she seeks vengeance in his name
Slay, proud Cuchulainn, Make her warriors bleed Tides of war are turning Three heroes at your feet Now Aoife herself is charging And your sword will soon be shattering
Three mighty blows the princess dealt And with the fourth, the warrior fell His weapon, broken off at the hilt, Cuchulainn now would soon be killed
Yet, right before the final strike, Aoife heard Scáthach's distant cry: Ah, look, Aoife's two horses and her chariot They have fallen down the glen and have all perished
As she paused to glance around, Cuchulainn sprang up threw her to the ground, Life for life, Aoife suddenly cried Three demands to me, the hero replied:
Give in to Scáthach, Nor ever defy her again, On this island you'll always remain, Bear me a son, Conlaoch be his name!
To all this, Aoife agreed For this brave man who had made her yield Reminded her of her long lost love And finally she found peace