Let me bring you songs from the wood:
To make you feel much better than you
could know -
Dust you down from tip to toe -
Show you how the garden grows -
Hold you steady as you go -
Join the chorus if you can:
It'll make of you an honest man.
Let me bring you love from the field:
Poppies red and roses filled with
summer rain
To heal the wound and still the pain
That threatens again and again
As you drag down every lovers' lane.
Life's long celebration's here.
I'll toast you all in penny cheer.
Let me bring you all things refined:
Galliards and Lute songs served in chilling ale.
Greetings well-met fellow, hail!
I am the wind to fill your sail.
I am the cross to take your nail:
A singer of these ageless times -
With kitchen prose and gutter rhymes.
Jack-In-The-Green
Have you seen Jack-In-The-Green?
- With his long tail hanging down.
He quietly sits under every tree
In the folds of his velvet gown.
He drinks from the empty acorn cup
The dew that dawn sweetly bestows.
And taps his cane upon the ground -
Signals the snow-drops, it's time to grow.
It's no fun being Jack-in-the-Green:
No place to dance, no time for song.
He wears the colours of the summer soldier;
Carries the green flag all the winter long,
Jack do you never sleep - does the green still
run deep in your heart?
Or will these changing times, motorways, power-
lines, keep us apart?
Well, I don't think so.
I saw some grass growing through the pavements today.
The Rowan, the Oak and the Holly tree
Are the charges left for him to groom.
Each blade of grass whispers, 'Jack-in-the-Green'
'Oh Jack, please help me through my winter's night'
And - 'We are the berries on the Holly tree:
Oh, the Mistle Thrush is cominpt your invitation, and would bring you
Beltane's flower
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed the song that calls them back
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder
g, Jack, put out the
light!'
but we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane's flower
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track
And those who ancient lines did lay
will heed the song that calls them back
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder
Cup Of Wonder
May I make my fond excuses for the late-ness of the hour;
But we accept your invitation, and would bring you
Beltane's flower.
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old
straight track,
And those who ancient lines did ley will heed this song
that calls them back.
Chorus:
Pass the word and pass the lady.
Pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass
the Cup of Ccrimson Wonder.
Ask the Green Man where he comes from, ask the cup that
fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones show the sun his
way to bed.
Question all as to their ways, and learn the secrets that
they hold.
Walk the lines of Nature's palm, crossed with silver and
with gold.
Chorus
Join in black December's sadness, lie in August's
welcome corn.
Stir the cup that's ever-filling with the blood of all
that's born.
But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old
straight track.
And those who ancient lines did ley will heed this song
that calls them back.
Chorus
Hunting Girl
One day I walked the road and crossed a field to go
by where the hounds ran hard.
And on the master raced: behind, the hunters chased
to where the path was barred.
One fine young lady's horse refused the fence to clear.
I un-locked the gate but she did wait until the pack had
disappeared.
Crop-handle carved in bone; sat high upon a throne of finest
English leather.
The Queen of all the Pack: this joker raised his hat and
talked about the weather.
All should be warned about this high born Hunting Girl.
She took this simple man's downfall in hand; I raised the
flag that she unfurled.
Boot leather flashing and spur-necks the size of my thumb.
This high-born hunter had tastes as strange as they come.
Unbridled passion: I took the bit in my teeth.
Her standing over: me on my knees underneath.
My lady, be discrete. I must get to my feet and go back to
the farm.
Whilst I appreciate you are no deviate, I might come to
some harm
I'm not inclined to acts refined, if that's how it goes.
Oh, high-born Hunting Girl I'm just a normal low-born so-and-so.
Ring Out, Solstice Bells