An ancient grove
Of willow and yew
Found by the wise, the daring, the fewCerridwen’s motherly call
Offerings of lilacs and iris
Waving the branches of the cypress

Macha comes in dreams
The White Lady waits
The srongest fall before their fate

Lambs and oak leaves
Adorn these ivy strewn stones
Soft whispers in the wind groan

Where the villagers once danced
They take their sleep
Memories the bards to keep

Time comes to a stop in this grove
Ruled by three boars
The ancient mist, the ancient door