'Tis a Yuletide morning: cold and bright,
There is potent magic astir in the breeze,
God's name spelled in stars over the night,
Spells and blessings doth blow through the trees,
The spirits of the interstices,
Stoke our enjoyment and revelation,
Grant all hopes and wishes fulfilment,
And leave the heart in gestation,
The transcendent music of all Earth's realm,
Goes round like a ribbon on the breeze,
The hibernating Rabbits, a warm heart beneath the hearth,
The hearth glittering with resplendent hues,
The chants of druids, round the witching stones,
Carried the praise of Earth to the skies,
Catholic prefers to atone,
But Pagan prefers to reject lies.