i sat within the valley green i sat me with my true love my sad heart strove the two between the old love and the new love the old for her the new that made me think on ireland dearly while soft the wind blew down the glade and shook the golden barley t was hard the woeful words to frame to break the ties that bound us and harder still to bear the shame of foreign chains around us and so i said the mountain glen i ll meet at morning early and i ll join the bold united men while soft winds shook the barley t was sad i kissed away her tears my fond arm round her flinging when a foeman s shot burst on our ears from out the wild woods ringing a bullet pierced my true love s side in life s young spring so early and on my breast in blood she died while soft winds shook the barley but blood for blood without remorse i ve ta en at oulart hollow i ve lain my true love s clay like corpse where i full soon must follow around her grave i ve wandered drear noon night and morning early with breaking heart whene er i hear the wind that shakes the barley
['dark wave', 'ethereal wave', 'medieval folk', 'neoclassical darkwave']