Across the hills,
The Serpent's tongue,
The echo of the deep,
Like thunder shaking,
And lightning striking,
The power of the storm,
Her voice it calls,
Across the hills,
Answering my call,
A voice to fear,
Sheer power's voice,
All across the hills.

There are few places,
Sweet Sumner Maiden,
Where I Feel you half as much.

Soft light of fading dusk,
Reflecting off gentle waves,
Of the deep dark well of the lake.

I call to you, Sweet Nimue,
The gentle waves rippling,
Like your hair in a gentle breeze.

I call to you, Sweet Maiden,
The fiery sunset blazing,
Like the gold and fire of your hair.

I call to you, Sweet Nimue,
The deep water, black and quiet,
Like the dark depths of your secrets.

I call to you, Sweet Maiden,
The gentle breeze across water,
Your soft breath on my skin.

I call to you, Sweet Nimue,
The waters so gentle I see a sword,
Raised up by your hand, O Lady of the Lake.

I call to you, Sweet Maiden,
Send your wind,
Rising across the water,
A soft breeze,
A mighty gale,
Raise the wind,
My sweet Nimue,
Lady of the Lake,
Corn Maiden,
Bringer of Wind,
Consuming fire,
The wind across your lake,
The power of your joy,
The power of your anger.

I call to you, Sweet Nimue,
Sweet Maiden,
My Lady of the Lake.

If I were to die in battle,
Who would invite me home?
Would it be Odin or would it be Freyja,
Whose hall I'd be taken to?

Would Odin want me,
Would I make the cut?
Am I the type he'd want,
To be fighting by his side?

Would Freyja have me,
Would I feast in her halls?
Would she find me worthy,
To lend her my sword?

The two they stand together,
Ready to make the choice,
Him with his initiator,
Her initiator with her.

As the Valkyries fly me closer,
I can't help but think,
Is it them that make the decision,
Or was it always my choice.

Summer's heat has come again,
And with it a growing womb.
The union formed of May's young flowers,
Begins to start to show.
The risen lord's seed runs strong,
The laughing queen was ripe.
In summer's heat, her sweat is sweat,
The warmth that forms within.
She smiles sweetly in Solstice sun,
Spring's rain fades away.
The white veil gone, her golden hair,
Darkens to chestnut brown.
New moon's time, a darkened moon,
A bonfire burning high.
The dancers dance, round and round,
A fever burning high.
The Horned King sits close by her side,
His smile as big as hers.
The summer sun it rises bright,
Round like her growing womb.
The moon moves on and starts to grow,
Just like her unborn Child.
Summer's heat has come again,
And with it a growing womb.
The womb will grow to harvest time,
The Child that will be born.
From blessed womb and serpent's seed,
The Mother of all life.

Around the Altar, the roses lay,
Blood red pedals and black of night,
A black stone Altar, absorbing light,
Dark stone tower, a hollow cave,
Upon the Altar, they laid me down,
In black, black robes my hands are tied,
Head laid back, stretched out flat,
Two coins are placed upon my eyes,
Beneath the gold, in shadows black,
The Twins they dance and in my laugh,
She stands above me, her robes jet black,
Her veil of red so loosely hangs,
A dagger black she raises high,
Blackthorn rod it passes forth,
Down and down comes the blade,
My life it passed but was long long gone,
Upon the Altar where they had me lie,
Among the roses both black and red.

A forked tongue is in the East,
She sings to my in the early Dawn,
Of the Sun's how Fire and the morning Dew,
Of red, red Rock and a howling Gale.

Her Mountains rounded, the sweetest *******,
Her water hidden down in the Cress,
Her light is blinding, the morning Sun,
Her hair is tossed in a howling Gale.

In the West a straight tongue sleeps,
He rises late and strongly grows,
His Mountains sharp of granite strong,
His voice a roaring, howling Gale.

His hair is Lodgepole, growing strong,
His shoulders sharp and granite strong,
From among him strong rivers flow,
And from his mouth, a howling Gale.

For Power flows from West to East,
A howling Gale that never stops,
Over Mountains and across prairie wide,
And back to Mountains, his morning Bride.

There is a union, where West meets East,
A copulation, a uniting Power,
In the valley, the very core,
Where Power blossoms forevermore.

And there is sits, the seat of Power,
Where West meets East down in the bower,
Where Northern Cold and Southern Heat,
Come together in the howling Gale.