Letras
In the year of red and rising smoke,
Where the gallows sprouted like twisted oaks,
They dragged us down through moss and mud,
Bound in twine, baptized in blood.
My mother wept in ancient tongues,
Her breath a curse from Irish lungs.
They strung her high with my sisters eight
Called it justice and revealed my fate.
We were daughters, not dissent.
We were embers of hope never spent.
Fire learns from those it fed
And I still persist though I am dead.
I was the ninth, the last to fall,
My name unmarked, my body small.
The rope bit deep, but death denied
His shadow spoke. I rose. I ride.
Cursed by man, yet crowned by night,
The gallows gifted me dark might.
I wear the noose like royal thread
The ninth sister no longer dead!!!
My father's blood fed rebel soil,
A martyr's end for freedom's toil.
But witches burn and rebels hang
Giving birth to vengeance's fangs.
I saw their boots, I heard their cheers,
Still I remember all their fears.
Their faces fade but never flee
They fuel the lantern's flame in me.
O Mother, whisper through the crows...
O Sisters, scream from gallows' below...
I'll carry you through storm and sky,
Until the last Redcoat has died.
You made me a ghost.
You sharpened my blade.
You buried me wrong
Now I bring the plague!
I was the ninth sister, the last to fall,
My quest for vengeance a deadly squall
No grave can hold, no flame can cleanse
A thirst for blood that never ends.
A child once, wept and wrung,
Now I am fury. Unbound, Unstrung.
So still I ride, lantern in hand
The Ninth Sister, a curse upon the land.
So light the pyres.
Ring the bells.
Britain will rot…
I ride with hell.
Ring the bells.
Britain will rot…