Where Hawthorn trees are tied with rags,
you’ll find an ancient well.
I reside deep inside –
keeper of the spell.
Bring your sickly infants,
whisper prayers, gently kneel.
Bless them with my water,
I will cool, cleanse, heal.
Circle me in silence,
take the children, be away.
Spread the word, let it be heard –
I live again, this day.
No comments:
Post a Comment