By Su Jolly
Morgaine Returns
And so, I return,
My brother, my King,
To the ancient mound,
To the sacred spring,
To the soft dripping groves,
Lit by Bel’s bright flame
Where you gave me our son,
Where I gave you your name,
To Avalon where it all began,
When I made you King
As only the Priestess can.
I return, I return,
Awake, awake,
To the hollow hills,
To the enchanted lake,
Your sister, your lover
Your Priestess, your Queen
How dare you betray ME
For the pale Nazarene.
You repudiate our child
Of the Beltaine flame,
No honour, no justice,
He is heir to YOUR shame.
Return ye, Return ye,
With sword in your hand,
Until a Pagan king once more
Fights for our Sacred Land.
Su Jolly Warrior Priestess and Faery Queen
Loyal Arthurian Warband
Tales from Crystal Palace
King Arthur came to Crystal Palace,
To defend the land 'gainst Bromleys malice,
To hold a ritual hex
The building of the Multiplex
While Eco Warriors arose
To help the locals to oppose
He wandered off, 'tis not a crime
'Twas only Druid standard time
While waiting we planned the ritual
Down to the smallest, last detail
We waited, we worried and at last we searched
We did not want our King Besmirched.
Was it the lure of the cider flagon
That he did not come when we raised the Dragon?
'Twas Morgaine raised the battle cry
And held the Dragon rune on high
While they danced and raised the cone of power
To place the sigil on Crystal Palace tower
And while Arthur dozed beneath a tree
Morgaine appeared on ITV
(Three times they say, doth prove the rule
Doth King Arthur play the fool?
While Morgaine holds firm, not enraged,
And thus is the Pendragon upstaged!)
(By that famous sage Anon)
AND
The Dragon came to Crystal Palace
To defend the land from Bromley's malice
With Eco magick to protect
'Gainst the building of the Multiplex
Eco Warriors arose
To help the locals oppose
Gathered Pagans of every brave tradition
United in a solemn mission
To save the land, the beasts, the trees
From politicians steeped in sleaze.
In the very teeth of a summer storm
To keep the ancient hill from harm.
We consecrated our runes of power
To ward the tunnels and guard the tower
In the centre stood a little child
Determined to protect the wild
Morgaine raised the battle cry
And held the Dragon rune on high
To record and celebrate our cause
A free Gorsedd of Bards was forged
We united then to visualise
The rune, burning bright in the cloudy skies
To set it in a cone of power
High on Crystal Palace tower
Morgaine spake, the Awen woke
In bardic verses to invoke
Courage, protection, and strength to stand
Against all who threaten our sacred land.
The Celt, the Roman, the Victorians proud
Have all built on this sacred ground,
But frail are the works of mortal hand
Against the spirit of the sacred land
Their works are razed, the palace burned
And ever do the trees return.
And should we triumph, or should we fail
At the last the Mother will prevail.
Su Jolly
Bard of the Free Gorsedd of Crystal Palace
Loyal Arthurian Warband
Men an Tol
Comes the gathering of the tribes
To celebrate the darkening of the sun
To Men an Tol in ancient Kernow
The Pendragon and the Morrigan come.
To give heart to the celebrations,
To issue a warning to those who can hear,
Gather, rejoice, look at the sky in wonder,
But preserve the mother, who we all hold dear.
The Pendragon deploys the tribes,
The priestess calls the guardian
And builds over the stile a mighty gate
Warded by the Morrigan.
King Arthur gathers the tribes together,
Hand in hand they give voice to the druids vow
And together intone a mighty Awen,
While the bitter rain falls, and the wild wind howls
These stones have stood for millennia
Witnessed only by wind and sky and hare,
Here we commune with our ancestors,
Whose ancestors we, if we live without care?
Says the priestess, wielding the sacred bind rune,
As darkness gathers upon the earth,
Listen, she entreats, to the voice of our mother,
As you travel through darkness towards rebirth.
Up the dragon path, the darkness surges,
A heavy curtain pulled by a mighty hand
As light returns a mighty dragon,
Flies out of the sun, and over the land
The tribes give up a ragged cry,
As once again the light shines bold
A cry of relief, of awe, of joy,
As darkness in daylight gives up its hold.
The horn of mead is passed around
Stories are shared, and visions told,
The circle is opened, the tribes scatter
King Arthur departs without a word.