Lost Tribe of The Wicklow Mountains #MayDay #revolution #socialism #poetry #FreeEbook

Get your free #davelordan E-book The Four Honesties here.


I believe in them, so they do exist.


In the Wicklow Mountains

It is easier to hide than you think.


Behind waterfalls.

In sunless crevices.

In densest rhododendroned foliage.


On slopes of fluttering shadow and scree.


Nothing I know of, apart from these lines,

Speaks of this tribe.


They might be waifs that escaped from

The lead-mines.


They might be vagrants who dropped


out of ballads and poems.


They might be rebels

Who outran the redcoats

Until the redcoats dissolved.


They might be ravers and Wiccans

who squat in high ruins

holding thousand day hooleys,

cavorting in roofless great halls.


They might change into foxes in moonlight

And paw through the motorway snow

To scavenge the exurban dustbins.


But, sincerely, this tribe has no patterns. It fits no descriptions.

Nothing about it – beyond its certain existence – translates:

No reason, no theses, no customs, no goal.


The tribe is my credo. That’s all.


Strong is my faith.

Strong is my beat.

Strong is my magic.

Strong is my want


& wanting, I rise till

I’m vanishing with them,


Spinning in to a mist

Where I’ll never be spotted

Above Mullaghcleevaun.


It’s so righteous to stray.

It’s so good to abandon.

It’s so just to ascend

With the lost and forgotten


To summits the rooted

Cannot even imagine.



Ireland’s greatest bard, Christy Moore included his version of Lost Tribe of The Wicklow Mountains on his 2016 album, Lily. Check out his version live below or find it on iTunes, spotify etc