Keepers of the Old Story

KEEPERS OF THE OLD STORY | A Breton Celtic Rock Anthem 🏴 From the eagles of Rome to the sleeping King of Avalon, this is the story of Brittany and Britain: two lands, one people, with the sea between them. "Keepers of the Old Story" is an epic Celtic rock anthem celebrating the Breton people. It isn't about the kings who carved their names in history. It's about the fishermen, farmers, harpers and mothers who carried the old story across the sea and kept it alive for 1,600 years. #Brittany #CelticRock #Breizh #Bretagne #KingArthur #CelticMusic #BretonMusic #FolkRock #Merlin #Avalon #CelticHistory #EpicMusic #Bretons #OnceAndFutureKing [Verse 1] When Rome's red eagle ruled the sea, Brittany's cliffs stood wild and free. Then Maximus led Britain's men, And named it Little Britain then. [Verse 2] At York they crowned young Constantine, His mother born of British line. The purple passed from hand to hand, And Rome's own blood ran through our land. [Verse 3] When Britain burned, two princes fled To Breton hearths, and there were fed. Ambrosius and Uther came Back home, and Arthur bore their flame. [Verse 4] At Camlann's field the king lay low, To Avalon they bore him slow. But Bretons swore he is not dead: "Deny it, and be stoned!" they said. [Chorus] Small nation, long memory, We crossed the sea and we stayed free. Kings wrote their names, we pulled the oar, We sowed the field, we held the shore. Keepers of the old story, sing: The tale belongs to us, not kings! [Verse 5] No banners flew when boats set sail, Just mothers praying through the gale. We named each "Plou," we blessed each well, And sang the songs we'd live to tell. [Verse 6] At Hastings, Breton farm boys stood, Then ploughed the dales and cleared the wood. Our harpers walked from hall to hall, And Arthur's song was sung by all. [Chorus] Small nation, long memory, We crossed the sea and we stayed free. Kings wrote their names, we pulled the oar, We sowed the field, we held the shore. Keepers of the old story, sing: The tale belongs to us, not kings! [Verse 7] Our salt and linen crossed the foam, And Roscoff lads walked far from home. With onion strings from door to door, They walked where Bretons walked before. [Verse 8] When France fell dark in forty's war, The men of Sein left net and shore. No king commanded them to go, But Breton hearts would not bow low. [Chorus] Small nation, long memory, We crossed the sea and we stayed free. Kings wrote their names, we pulled the oar, We sowed the field, we held the shore. Keepers of the old story, sing: The tale belongs to us, not kings! [Verse 9] By Vortigern's pool the prophet cried, "The dragon red shall rise in pride. The eagle nests, and nests again; Her third nest crowns the hope of men." [Verse 10] From Rome to Brittany she flew, Then Britain's hills, her nest made new. Three nests, three lands, and one refrain: The sleeping King shall come again! [Bridge] Look at the hands beside your own, These are the hands that laid the stone. Fisher and farmer, harper, wife, We are the story, we're its life. And when he wakes on Breton shore, He'll find us standing as before. [Crowd chant] Who rowed the boats? (We did!) Who held the line? (We did!) Who kept the story? (We do!) Who waits for the King? (We do!) Who'll tell it next? (You!) [Key Change] [Final Chorus] Small nation, long memory, From Brittany to Britain's sea. Kings wrote their names, we pulled the oar, We sowed the field, we held the shore. Keepers of the old story, sing: The tale belongs to us, not kings!