The new-age circus has come to town
and all wise women go to ground.
The sacred glade where once we stood,
has been cut down for firewood.
From deer park to nesting ground,
now concrete jungle all around.
The herbs we gathered and dried with care,
through sprays and poisons, found no-where.
The shells and stones from coast and brook,
all hid by rubbish – take a look!
The haunting song of the nightingale
a whisper ‘gainst the sirens wail.
The village green where children played,
is where the drunks and junkies sway.
And in the lanes we used to ride,
now souped-up engines, past us, fly.
So what has happened to our Land,
where guardians came to ‘lend a hand’.
They said, ‘to nurture and protect
the sacred ground from tor to wreck…’
The ancient rites they worked and prayed
but soon true Pirate wiles displayed.
They paved paradise with hob-nailed feet
and sold the space where the Fay did meet.
Our virgin land to slavery driven
Tho pearls of wisdom freely given.
A little knowledge, a dangerous tool,
our sacred Lady is no fool.
For she is true, a Queen most fair,
…and her hero stirs within his lair…
The plundered pearls, the Dragon wakes
– chains once held captive, vengeance breaks.
Through shady myths and legends old,
The Dragon, with the knights most bold,
emerges from his centuries sleep,
the Lady’s honour, bound to keep.
And when the battles fought and won,
the Dragon-Lady’s work is done.
Then herb and stone and Fay most fair,
wise women once again will share.
A little older, this is true,
but all the stronger for knowing you.
And when we see your moonlit dance,
and hear your foreign sounding chants,
we will remember through misty eyes,
how once you fooled us with your lies.
Hypnotic hopes we once believed,
were just the vehicles of thieves.
The land takes care of her own health,
if there’s healing needed, it’s with ourselves.
Money could buy the tools we need,
but Mother Earth provides these things!
The wise will get to know her best,
not by rites or how they’re dressed,
but a walk on a beach on a stormy day,
or helping the farmer gather hay.
Stay close beside her and you will find,
a treasure-house to blow your mind!
A crystal here, a touch-stone there,
a wealth of knowledge beyond compare.
So if your desire is to be true,
forget the circus, and just be you.
That person sitting with no other,
is probably spending time with Mother.