My lady of the darkness
weaving pictures in my head
using night-times gentle quietness
and moonbeams as your thread
the stories that we wonder at
the tales I dream of still
here beneath your loom I'm sat
each thread you weave a thrill

My sweet come sleep in the evening sun
now all day's labours and trials are done
lay till the sun fades from the sky
and silver moonlight touches your eyes
bringing dreams of love and mystery
past lives and ancient history
dream of a love that is pure and true
while I sit watching over you

I had the worst nightmare of my life last night
awoke with a migraine sweating and white
a painful dreadful evil unsettling dream
where monsters pursued an awful scheme

In a distant country of sun and dust
warped parodied  men followed their lust
hunting down all beasts they see
to gather for meat and  misery

I was trapped in a giant metal machine
a  factory of pain made so obscene
fire would spout and burn the trees
and bring the forest to its knees

all of the creatures ran in fear
as this evil killing thing came near
pipes ****** smaller creatures in
the screaming still I hear within

The horrors that I dreamed run on
I hope they fade and soon are gone
two images I can't forget
forever in my eyes are set

A baby elephant ****** up whole
and screaming in the tube poor soul
its mother trying still to fight
but crushed beneath the iron might

And from the burning bushes ran
a baby warthog fast as it can
but no hope for the poor wee beast
its leg torn off god how it bleeds

Where do dreams like this come from
and why do memories linger on
dark vision of a distant time
our future race's final crime

Scorned by pew browned elders stare
stand calm before their face
they know not of the power you bare
for the  good of all your race
fool's barriers to light and love
is what they want to build
to control the people from above
and have the wise folk killed
women in the huts and crofts
ancient wisdoms ways
scent of healing carried aloft
before persecuters gaze
but life and love still bring them back
their wisdom shall return
for every wise one they attacked
and as a witch they burned

We can write of battles and sing of wars
count the dead and keep the scores
but the tragedies hidden in history
the poor wee stories we rarely see

Mothers mourning absent sons
children cold in front of guns
waiting women for the pain
of knowledge that their men are slain

Women make up half the world
give birth to all like flowers unfurled
but history seems to look past them
and cram our books with such great men

In ancient distant Celtic days
the women wise in every way
would help and march beside the men
to guide and heal and be with them

Christian laws came to make them weak
took away their power to speak
stopped the midwife and nature's nurse
said they were witches with a curse

So men at most are children wild
so rarely fit for life great trials
and as a care worn  specimen
my love  is strained for fellow men

The world does change and we can grow
now women heal and use life's glow
to challenge in a subtle way
all of men's damage done today

Easier to take life than create
and to vilify love and strive to hate
but if we stop and count the score
how many women started a war?

Marred fair in the tower so high
sitting cold and waiting to die
daughters locked way so hard
dragged here from the land of the bard

Your man is fighting in the hills
battling iron with love and will
but his war and love are all for you
spirit strong and spirit true

One day you'll rise and stand beside
and view the woods and mountainside
your children sitting at your feet
your love death never can defeat