A chill in the air,
a chill in the Spring
a chill in the Dawn
that's just like the Winterborne.
A ciricle that's torn
of Pans pipe horns
Elders and Hazels and
of Blackthorn.
of Sacred Springs of rivers run
of all that be that be of one
The ballard of the green man
by Steve Lynch
A chill in the air, a chill in the Spring a chill in the Dawn that's just like the Winterborne. A ciricle that's torn of Pans pipe horns Elders and Hazels and of Blackthorn. of Sacred Springs of rivers run of all that be that be of one |
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Poem written for part of Tim's ancestoring rituals - recited by Steve at one of the sources of the river Kennet near Silbury Hill. | ||