Gweedore (officially known by its Irish language name, Gaoth Dobhair, Irish pronunciation: [ˌɡˠi ˈd̪ˠoːɾʲ]) is an Irish-speaking parish located on the Atlantic coast of County Donegal, Ireland. Gweedore stretches some 16 miles from Meenaclady in the north to Crolly in the south and around 9 miles from Dunlewey in the east to Magheraclogher in the west, and is one of Europe's most densely populated rural areas. It is the largest Irish-speaking parish in Ireland with a population of around 4,065, and is also the home of the northwest regional studios of the Irish-language radio service RTÉ Raidió na Gaeltachta, as well as an external campus of National University of Ireland, Galway. Gweedore includes the villages Bunbeg, Derrybeg, Dunlewey, Crolly and Brinalack, and sits in the shade of Donegal's highest peak, Errigal.
Gweedore is known for being a cradle of Irish culture, with old Irish customs, traditional music, theatre, Gaelic games and the Irish language playing a central and pivotal role in the lives of the local people. This, along with its scenery and many beaches, has made the area a popular tourist destination, especially with visitors from Northern Ireland. Gweedore and the neighbouring districts of Cloughaneely and the Rosses are collectively known locally as "the three parishes", they form a social and cultural region distinct from the rest of the county, with Gweedore serving as the main centre for socialising and industry.
Bastards of madness
Call out this prayer of vengeance
Speaking to enemies through these wounds of redemption
Tearing out their eyes with horror
Behold this chosen new devise
As the silence pleads this forgiveness
A senseless begging for absolution
Upon this entrance into oblivion
This fallen angel of defiance, destitute to isolation
Hold tight to liberation, in the form of reprisal
Project of this restored frame, in these pain filled alterations
This new threat of changing life restless in this completion
Powerless you crawl like pigs
Soon to be slaughtered
Suckling to a faith that you avidly hoped would save you all
These offerings will bring us our justice.
For these years of diluted lies
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
These hands held into the sky so the dark
Winds can taste the blood of murder
As the blackest hearts obey thoughts of evil
Deathlorn rites, endure the lust for revenge
Surrender the state of embracement and release
This life from the dark interiors
Discomfort of this assisted torment is given in these regards
A scourge of awakening
Prisoned in the rites of blood
Bestowed with ancient plagues, we will forge a disease
Of rape upon your ideals
Within this lifeblood we will find the truths as blades
Slice open their necks
The answers to our freedom
The answer to the death of gods
Once reconstructed the swarm will digest
The souls of this imperfection
Sterilizing faith bringer has discharged
This assembly of this damnation
Burden me with your weak
Curse me with your sick
In blood filled walls I lie confined