Crom Cruach

There, rose a high idol after many battlesWhich was called the Crom-CruachHe would break any peace between the tribesHe was their godCrom the withered in thick mistsThose who were frightenedNever would reach the High KingdomsThere were hurting themselvesThere were beating palms,Hammering their bodiesWhile mourning in the name of the fallen OneEnslaving themThey were shedding endless floods of tear