Sign From The North Side

True Celtic power from the cape of Cornwall

Cry of hope, angels cry

This was omen, our sign, prediction

Distant gate, gothic grave

Through ages our clan still remain



In this proud land I grew up strong,

My tears are flowing all around

The wind is twisting my sorrow

I still believe in truth and hate



All through my life I have carried our ring,

The omen

All this was the fragment from my life



In this proud land I was born alone

I was taught to fight, taught to win

They told me the way of steel and secret

I am the unburied child, child without a name

Without fate,

I fight for peace and love,

I am reborn