The CD notes have the extensive Irish lyrics transcribed nicely, but no explanation in a language my Irish ancestors' descendants can understand. So suffice to say I like the rhythm and feel of the whole thing.
So go get yourself a bowl of rice crispies with green milk, or green beer, or look for shamrocks in the spring weeds, or whatever else you might do to observe the day a man named Maewyn died. Just leave the snakes alone.
[mp3] Kila: "
from Lemonade and Buns