Red moons rise below in the valley of shadowed crypts
Lunar winds take me above on feathers of black mists
Centuries I waited for my knighthood to be passed
With blood a sword is sealed and given to me at last
Mighty! Mother! Goddess!
Queen! Maiden and Crone
I've come to seek thy blessing
Grant me a will of stone
Kings rule by blasphemy against the sacred shrine
Once fruitful wombs are bleeding christian swine
I seek the Mighty Queen of mountains, lakes, woods, plains, rivers and
Bathe me in Thy silver light that showers from Thy pores,
For thee, oh Kerridwen, Thy land I reconquer
And all the slaughtered traitors will be breeding nevermore.
The sight embraces me in a cold whirlwind of souls
Visions twist and turn and magickal fire cloaks me in thick smoke
Feathered taloned blackest creatures, they lift me into a dream,
I see the child of two royal lines that will make the druid's sickle gleam again!
The Horned One and the Virgin Goddess lay together that night,
Renewing vows which created our splendid holy isle
What of the King Stag when the Young Stag is grown?
I run free with the deer, quick feet on the undergrowth,
Above the trees the whisp ring, of destiny unknown,
They seek the stranger mong them, I stare into maddened eyes,
Baptised with the King's life as blood flows where flesh met Knife.
He was in me as we feasted and we drank,
Upon that isle into spirit we all sank,
The taste and smell...real and strong of spice and wine,
As wolves upon a foal we fell, with teeth ripped out the spine!
Lunar winds take me above on feathers of black mists
Centuries I waited for my knighthood to be passed
With blood a sword is sealed and given to me at last
Mighty! Mother! Goddess!
Queen! Maiden and Crone
I've come to seek thy blessing
Grant me a will of stone
Kings rule by blasphemy against the sacred shrine
Once fruitful wombs are bleeding christian swine
I seek the Mighty Queen of mountains, lakes, woods, plains, rivers and
Bathe me in Thy silver light that showers from Thy pores,
For thee, oh Kerridwen, Thy land I reconquer
And all the slaughtered traitors will be breeding nevermore.
The sight embraces me in a cold whirlwind of souls
Visions twist and turn and magickal fire cloaks me in thick smoke
Feathered taloned blackest creatures, they lift me into a dream,
I see the child of two royal lines that will make the druid's sickle gleam again!
The Horned One and the Virgin Goddess lay together that night,
Renewing vows which created our splendid holy isle
What of the King Stag when the Young Stag is grown?
I run free with the deer, quick feet on the undergrowth,
Above the trees the whisp ring, of destiny unknown,
They seek the stranger mong them, I stare into maddened eyes,
Baptised with the King's life as blood flows where flesh met Knife.
He was in me as we feasted and we drank,
Upon that isle into spirit we all sank,
The taste and smell...real and strong of spice and wine,
As wolves upon a foal we fell, with teeth ripped out the spine!