Oh, where were you last Samhain?
Out in the dark of the woodland
We stood in a Circle chill
And watched the bale-fires bloom
On each surrounding hill
And we sang the Earth to her sleeping
And the Wild Hunt's horn gave cry
As the Lord of the Winter called to His own
Across the darkling sky.
Oh, where were you last Yule-tide?
By the light of the bright hearth-fire
In a hall so warm and strong
We sang the return of the Sun
In the depths of the Winter long
At the darkest night of all the year
When the Winter's bite is cold
We heard once more the promise of Spring
In the ancient tales told.
Oh, where were you last Imbolc?
By candle flames threescore and more
We danced on Lady Day
And called to the first faint spark of life
In the ancient hallowed way
As the deep-sown seeds begin to stir
And Winter starts to wane
We wait for the Winter King to die
And the Summer King come again.
Oh, where were you last Ostara?
On Sprintime's joyous dawning-day
When dark and light in balance stand
We sang to the early plantings
In the wide and fertile land.
We wept for joy at the gentle rains
And the warmth of the swelling Sun
And we looked ahead to Summer-tide
For Winter's course is run.
Oh, where were you last Beltaine?
In the village square the Maypole tall
We twined with the sacred braid
And two by two in the groves and fields
The Springtime Spell we made.
And we called to the spirits of the land
To bless our yearly rite
And promise us a fruitful crop
On joyous Beltaine night.
Oh, where were you last Litha?
From the hill where the sacred stones stand tall
We rolled the flaming wheel
To give thanks for the Sun God's blessing
On our ploughed and planted fields.
Through the shortest night of all the year
We sang to bless the Sun
For we know the Summer is all too short
And Autumn soon will come.
Oh, where were you last Lammas?
As we reaped the first of the Summer's crop
We did both weep and sing:
We sang for the blessings of the fields,
And we wept for the Sacred King.
For he gives his life each year this time
That we in turn may live:
His blood is shed to help bring forth
That which the Mother gives.
Oh, where were you last Mabon?
We came together at Summer's end
To reckon and count the yield
And give thanks we'd live another year
On the bounty of the fields.
For the Mother sustains us every day
She fills both belly and heart
And however we grow or change we know
We will never be apart.
Oh, where were you last Samhain...?