| When the dying western sun dips low
|
| And the raincloud rises in the east
|
| Between the lines of truth and the words of faith
|
| Lie the fiery duties of the priest
|
| Stir the blood of ancient things
|
| Drawing down the moon
|
| From the hill of Tarna see the Beltane fires
|
| And the silent Celtic kings await
|
| From the midnight hour to the light of dawn
|
| Feel the mountain tremble and your heart will shake
|
| Stir the memories of the stones
|
| We are drawing down the moon
|
| In the circle of the old ways
|
| Of the wicker man
|
| Wicker man, wicker man
|
| From the beacon hill
|
| cast your fire on this land
|
| Wicker man, wicker man
|
| From the beacon hill
|
| throw your ashes on our hands
|
| Let the pendulum go Let it sway away
|
| Let the chimes ring out
|
| On this solstice day
|
| When the earth renews
|
| When the seed reveals
|
| When we are reborn
|
| Every waking dream
|
| When the earth renews itself
|
| When the seed reveals itself
|
| When the earth renews itself
|
| When the seed reveals itself
|
| When we are reborn
|
| In every waking dream
|
| Every tree and leaf
|
| Every frozen stream
|
| When the earth renews itself
|
| When the seed reveals itself
|
| When we are reborn
|
| In every waking dream
|
| Every tree and leaf
|
| Every frozen stream
|
| When the earth renews itself
|
| When the seed reveals itself |