Blood of Morgan (The Long Rebellion)

Celtic folk-rebel rock, Celtic folk, folk rock

Verse 1
In the mist where the mountains break the sky,
Before the wall and the Roman lie,
There stood a fire no empire could chain,
A wild-born kin with no written name.
Verse 2
They called us tribes in the northern storm,
Caledon blood, never bound or sworn,
But deep in the hills where the wild winds scream,
There lived a name like a restless dream.
Verse 3
Morgan rose from the ancient ground,
No crown of kings, no iron crown,
Just earth and blood and a sharpened blade,
And a promise that we would never be slaves.
Verse 4
We howled at Rome with the thunder of war,
On the edge of the world where the shadows roar,
From glen to glen, from peak to sea,
“Come take our land if you dare from me!”
Verse 5
No legions held what the spirit claimed,
The Highlands burned with a rebel flame,
Though empires marched with iron might,
Morgan stood in the endless night.
Verse 6
They pushed us north, but we did not fall,
We carved our souls into stone and wall,
Through generations the fire stayed strong,
In the bloodline echoing battle song.
Verse 7
Time rolled on like a raging tide,
New names were born where the old ones died,
From Morgan’s breath to the Gaelic cry,
Mac Aoidh rose under Scottish sky.
Verse 8
Son of Aodh, with the flame inside,
Through glens of green where the warriors ride,
MacKay thundered through Highland lore,
With the same wild heart from the days before.
Verse 9
Then ships set sail from the western shore,
To lands unknown and battles more,
Across the ocean, through storm and pain,
The blood of Morgan would rise again.
Verse 10
In Irish hills where the legends grew,
The name was twisted, the lineage new,
MacCoy echoed through Celtic ground,
A rebel name with a battle sound.
Verse 11
Then over mountains in a land so wide,
The Appalachian hills became our pride,
McCoy voices in outlaw tone,
Still we walk like we own no throne.
Verse 12
From Morgan’s fire to MacAoidh’s flame,
From MacKay’s roar to the outlaw name,
We are the storm they could not break,
The rebel blood they could not take.
Verse 13
So raise your fists to the Highland sky,
Where ancient ghosts and eagles fly,
We are the sons of the untamed land,
With a broken crown and a warrior’s hand.
Verse 14
Morgan lives in the thunder’s call,
In every rise, in every fall,
From Caledonia’s ancient past,
To McCoy’s blood that still holds fast—
We are the wild, we are the free,
Forever rebels of history.

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Verse 1 In the mist where the mountains break the sky, Before the wall and the Roman lie, There stood a fire no empire could chain, A wild-born kin with no written name. Verse 2 They called us tribes in the northern storm, Caledon blood, never bound or sworn, But deep in the hills where the wild winds scream, There lived a name like a restless dream. Verse 3 Morgan rose from the ancient ground, No crown of kings, no iron crown, Just earth and blood and a sharpened blade, And a promise that we would never be slaves. Verse 4 We howled at Rome with the thunder of war, On the edge of the world where the shadows roar, From glen to glen, from peak to sea, “Come take our land if you dare from me!” Verse 5 No legions held what the spirit claimed, The Highlands burned with a rebel flame, Though empires marched with iron might, Morgan stood in the endless night. Verse 6 They pushed us north, but we did not fall, We carved our souls into stone and wall, Through generations the fire stayed strong, In the bloodline echoing battle song. Verse 7 Time rolled on like a raging tide, New names were born where the old ones died, From Morgan’s breath to the Gaelic cry, Mac Aoidh rose under Scottish sky. Verse 8 Son of Aodh, with the flame inside, Through glens of green where the warriors ride, MacKay thundered through Highland lore, With the same wild heart from the days before. Verse 9 Then ships set sail from the western shore, To lands unknown and battles more, Across the ocean, through storm and pain, The blood of Morgan would rise again. Verse 10 In Irish hills where the legends grew, The name was twisted, the lineage new, MacCoy echoed through Celtic ground, A rebel name with a battle sound. Verse 11 Then over mountains in a land so wide, The Appalachian hills became our pride, McCoy voices in outlaw tone, Still we walk like we own no throne. Verse 12 From Morgan’s fire to MacAoidh’s flame, From MacKay’s roar to the outlaw name, We are the storm they could not break, The rebel blood they could not take. Verse 13 So raise your fists to the Highland sky, Where ancient ghosts and eagles fly, We are the sons of the untamed land, With a broken crown and a warrior’s hand. Verse 14 Morgan lives in the thunder’s call, In every rise, in every fall, From Caledonia’s ancient past, To McCoy’s blood that still holds fast— We are the wild, we are the free, Forever rebels of history.

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