Black is the Morrigan on this plain   Dark is her aspect, no remorse or shame   Washer at the ford for those who can see   The crone and the hag, goddess trinity.      Goddess of war, denizen of death   Seeker of souls,   She awaits your last breath...      Nightmare visions, choked with the bodies of the slain   Rivers run red, ravens alight on mounds of lifeless forms   Feasting horribly on carrion and broken bones,   Once proud men, someone's sons and brothers all.      Where now is the glory in your war   No glory in your war   No glory in the grave      Hear the shriek of the Morrigan   As she circles preparing to dine,   To dine upon the slaughtered souls   To feast on fresh dead flesh   Triumphant scream of ecstasy   Exultant in the misery   Wallow in the pain      Putrid stench of entrails and emptied bowels   Morrigan's minions glut on unseeing eyes   A picture painted in detail so obscene   Morrigan greets all those souls who die.      Eternal war she craves   Battles unceasing   Combatants increasing   Sweet stench of blood on the wind   Dishevelled warriors, expressions grotesque   Dismembered bodies, expressions grotesque      Her in her glory, goddess of war   Her in her glory, Morrigan's domain.