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Wold
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December Eve
On December eve
The good folk,
The faeries of auld,
Are more powerful than angels,
They dance in the cold.
The good folk
On December eve,
With fires burning high,
Troop as angel rapers,
Under the prairie sky.
On December eve
The good folk
Chant in a ring,
With screech owl in the centre
This is what they sing:
'On December eve
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Cold winds
Make the willows weave.
'On December eve
Owl spreads
Her wings to grieve.
'On December eve
Winter deems
There's no reprieve.'
The good folk
On December eve,
Reign at winter's helm:
They are more real than the outside God,
Because the earth is their realm.
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