silver.. sliver.. softly light the darkness
rough hewn stone circle,
ancient solemn chanting
grass stained bare toes breathless young maidens,
flush faced from roaring open fires
stand silhoutted against the night sky
under the mystical ghost moon,
weaving there spells,
Candles glimmering,
Beneath the endless blackness.
Dancing there spiral dance,
To mother earth and father sky....
Season Of The Witch
The darkness howls as they arise
Feel the angry fevers rise
Flames of lightning fill your sky
From your dreams
it would seem that your nightmares
Come to life
It's the season of the witch
In this blackness your fears
will arouse only leers from below
We go...
Season of the Witch
Season of the Witch
Salem's lot has struck the hour
Season of the Witch
Fear the stake flesh afire
Season of the Witch
Every madness has its lair
Judging by these distractions
we know not a soul will be spared
Come forth demons
Now there's no turning back
Alarmed by these visions
be prepared as they plan their attack
Season of the Witch
Season of the Witch
Salem's lot has struck the hour
Season of the Witch
Fear the stake flesh afire
Season of the Witch
Flames of lightning fill your sky
From your dreams it would seem
that your nightmares Come to life
It's the season of the witch
In this blackness your fears
will arouse only leers from below
We go..
I have done the dream walk,
In the night of darkness my soul has wandered.
I have faced the Crone, The Black Brighid, The Morrigu,
And drank from her cauldron,
And from it's blackly liquid,
I have received her wisdom.
Her ravens have flown with me,
Leading me into other realms...
One above, blocking out the sky,
One below, hiding the Earth,
And one on either side,
Holding my spiraling soul.
I have been nurished at the bossom
of the Dark Crone,
And she has filled me,
And lifted me up with new insight.
I face all that come as her daughters.
And her warrior sons guard my back.
I honor her in her darkness,
For what she has given me.
May her blackest kiss be upon my lips,
And her wisdoms brighten my soul.
c.99..Forestwife
The Sky is dark, the stars are bright, The moon is shinning too, Inside a cave the witches meet To mix their favourite brew. They take a stick, and bending low They stir the mixture round, Then rub their fingers, And stamp upon the ground. They drink there whisky and there becks and then into the sky, On broomsticks, swift and light, They giggle as they fly, And soon are out of sight.
