Culloden

Culloden (Musik: Anduril, Text: Tim Roderwieser)

We have always been right by your side, now a shadow´s crawling in the night.
The enemy is closer now than it has ever been,
the crows are waiting for a feast in the moorlands in between.
You´re still young and brave and full of pride.

You took us cross the border to some southern places,
but strength has turned to fear on the clansmen´s faces.
The end of days is coming now, come fellows raise your arms,
we´re guests of the last supper in our land that´s full of harm.
Who will bring us home when this day is done?

Every man dies, not every man is really living!
We´re protecting the land, our souls are what we´re giving.

The Fourtyfive has come to an end, here side by side for the last stand.
Jacobites, hold fast, until the morning light!

Fivethousand men, all that´s left of your troops after all.
Of course we do know of our fate, but we stand tall.
Our blood runs like a river and our fortune´s crushed like ice.
You raised our land one time again but now we pay the price.
Where is our king? Don´t let the Highlands fall!

Across the great divide

Across the great divide (Musik & Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Solitary land, crumbling walls, a long and plaintive band, too feeble to walk,
born and raised here, but now on their way,
children alongside, only sheep herds will stay.
Disappeared behind the Highland hills,
now their homeland´s quiet and still, they are gone.

Ships to Canada take the crofters across, the landlords stole their ground,
now everything´s lost.
A cry of grief over the land re-echoes through the empty glens,
hear them cry:

„We are going across the great divide and the people we´re leaving behind us
are the memories of our lives.
We are going across the great devide and the homeland that couldn´t
protect us is now so far aside …“

Children of the Gael famished by the blight,
on a final sail after Balinglass nights.
Broken spirits in tatters and rags get on coffin ships with a pall as a flag.
From the fields of Athenry comes a deep and desperate sigh:
„My children are gone!“

During the times of a worldwide darkness poets and thinkers left their homes,
but these were just a few and most of them were caught.
Albert, Berthold, Marlene, Thomas and Heinrich
fled the brown terror and crossed the Atlantic,
scared by a land that should have been their home.

 

Dust of falling stars

Dust of falling stars (Musik & Text: Michael Fliegner)

Days are dark now, times are hard now, rain falls down like cursed tears,
hope is gone so long ago, like leaves from a dead tree.
Nothing´s right but all is wrong, no light in all this darkness,
a future´s not predictable, hearts are full of fears.

Sometimes angels drink from lakes of shattered dreams, breathe the dust of falling stars.
A winged savior swallows clouds of broken words, crushes mountains out of lies.
Now your´re falling headfirst in a dream, now your soul glides up to the stars,
now there is no time for ugly tears, now is the time that hope finds its way back to your heart.

Sleepless nights and endless fights, words struck in like thunder.
Fury blinds the eyes of truth, affection disappears.
A useless search, an aimless curse, like fishing in a dead sea,
a gannet on a desperate rock longs for winds to hopeful shores.

 

Skye Dance

Skye Dance (Musik: Hannes Landau, Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Stamp to the beat of the band on the ground
come let your Spirit fly

See how the Boys and the Girls twirl around
Dance to the Sound of Skye

Glasnakille

 

Rungholt

Rungholt (Musik & Text Hannes Landau)

In de letzten Jahunderte söchte manny Sturmfloten de Nordseeküst heim.
Doch de schlimmste fun allen wehr de Marcellusflot.
Wie en Strof Goddes zerstörte de Grode Mandsdränke in dat Johr 1362
de ruhmvolle Stadt Rungholt und let se unnergahn. De Legende sech,
dat man be ruhige Weehr noch hüt Rungholts Glocken lüden hören kann.

My name is Jack O´Reilly, I am from Ireland´s shores,
spice trading is my job and I was witness of the following:
On the coast of Friesland they sell a special kind of salt,
so I set sails and made my way to a town called Rungholt.

„Don`t you care about your coast?“, asked a man,
„Don`t you care about your souls?“
„Your purse is full, I preach in an empty church,
please remember“, said the priest „the lord comes first!“

As I came to the harbour I asked a friendly man
where to find the next salines he showed me them and then
the carving and the ripping of the land scared me a lot.
Pub is full, church is closed, nobody thanks the lord.

Nobody knows what happened to Rungholt, just a legend of boast is told,
I saw it all, its rise and fall, pride was its fate: The end of Rungholt.

The more the priest did warn the more he was ignored,
haughty citizens derided him and the sea did roar.
So I left the market, I didn´t make a deal.
Godlessness and pride, bane of god became real.

Windswept escape, ruthless seaway,
fear on my back, gigantic waves…

Tartan Pants

Tartan pants (Musik: Markus Blumberg, Text: Tim Roderwieser)

I first saw your eyes shining through the crowd, you wore your tartan pants.
You always said the right thing and you did it, but around me was a fence.
You carried me a while, I carried you a while, you carried me a while

You first flashed me in a peanut covered gramophone, with that biker through the wall,
Not every great love has a happy end, ours could have had, but my courage was too small
You carried me a while, I carried you a while, you carried me a while, we carried each
other for a while

You are more than just a glimpse or a hidden sound in the attic of my memory
You will always be a part of my life and I hope you feel the same when you think of me

Atlanterra

Atlanterra (Musik & Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Do you feel that time is running out and your thoughts are filled with fog,
there´s no music and the only sound is the ticking of the clock,
wipe this all away, listen what I say, get your things together turn your mind on purple heather.
We will pack the busses with the boys and we make some noise
and we let our spirits fly to the western coast again.

Take me back home to the breaking waves on the shores of Atlanterra.
Seems to me like we´ve never been apart.
Deep in our soul is a well known place and the sound of Atlanterra,
here you will find the freedom for your heart.

We have seen the force awakening, on the Skelligs we stood like Jedi Lords,
won the Durness football championship, danced on the Muir of Ord.
Midges in the port, everyday we got on board of another Cal Mac Ferry, made it home to Scott and Mairi,
sailors of the Oich and the Ness, winding up to Healy´s Pass,
now the time has come for the knights of Patsy Dan!

You´re divided though you share legends from both sides of the great divide.
A stormy danger but we dare to take this final boat to the other side.

Atlanterra

Flowers of Glen Coe

Flowers of Glen Coe (Musik & Text: Hannes Landau)

On a bright summer morning me and my son walked through MacDonalds Glen Coe.
We talked about freedom, friendship and love but something happened here years ago.

The wounds of the past take a long time to heal and their roots are strong and deep.
Summer comes and winter goes here in my lovely Glen Coe.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
smell the flowers that grow in the sun.
Let the story they tell never let fade away
and remember how it all begun.

We sat down on a stone, kept silence for a while. “For what reason is war?” asked my son.
A tear dropped down and I shook my head. “I don´t know…” was all that I said.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
smell the flowers that grow in the sun.
Let´s the story they tell keep in mind every day
and remember how it all begun.

It’s the burden of every nation, it’s the question of every child,
the duty of every chieftain, the future of mankind.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
they tell stories of blood, hate and war.
Let the wounds of the land and men who can´t be friends
heal through the flowers of Glen Coe.

Thanks to the Irish

Thanks to the Irish (Musik & Text: Michael Fliegner)

On day one of our journey we crossed the Irish Sea,
a hotel at the harbour, the first place we´d got to be.
With a look out to the Old Head we played „Johnny“ at the shore
and in Dingle at An Conair´s „Taking back the land“ once more.

In the morning a Full Breakfast, noon till dawn the Irish sun,
on the left always the seaside, we are Anduril on the run.
In the evening a grilled Sirloin, grab a can of tasteful black,
take a look out to the ocean where the sun burns a ship´s deck.

You warmed our hearts with your smile, we felt welcome in your land,
you made us a home for a while, made it easy for our band,
there is just one thing for sure: One day we will be back
to the beauty of the forty shades and the taste of Irish Black.

Standing there upon green mountains, feeling like this must be fake,
breathing in the magic moments at the mystic Barley Lake.
Climb the steps up to the monks and birds, Little Skellig in the mist,
throw the balls down on the Blasket Sand, Mr. Rhythm raise your fist.

So we say: „Thanks to the Irish and to our promised land,
you warmed our hearts with your smile, we felt welcome in your land.“

Talisker Bay

Talisker Bay (Musik & Text: Hannes Landau)

Life isn´t simple and your track isn´t always straight.
Sometimes it´s cloudy and you fear to lose your way.
Every night follows daylight, there´ll be sunshine after rain.
Your dark cloud shifter comes from this place.

Just sit down and relax and breath the air,
enjoy the outlook let the wind blow your hair.

Take me back to Talisker Bay, where time stood still, where I found my way.
Take me back where I belong, to the coast where I became strong.

Every wave reached my heart every stone keeps a memory.
What once was hard to find: My spirit will be free.
If burdens shading your mind, let the clouds take them aside.
Written in the water: Welcome back to life!

The light on the horizon will ease the pain, coming back to this coast is always a gain.