So far from home
so far from Rome
and still they comb the countryside,
yesterday's not so far away when you're history.

Celts and Gauls
each widow calls upon a saint to taint your offspring,
each song a dirge to wipe the scourge of Romans and their army from the shores of dear old Blighty.
I confuse these words I use and transcend time
each time another time to tell of conquests.

Have you seen the Book of Kells?
liabhar cheanannais as it's known,
or maybe in Rome,
the book of Columba,
I never did and
I never did the Dublin trail and never noticed
widow's wail about that either.

Each time brings its own tomorrow
a cycle down the paths of joy
where sorrow lurks to catch the unwary,
each time gets more scary than the last until
tomorrow's past and the rest is just the best of history
that we can make.
Some say fake, but I don't believe that either.