The Wheel of the Year

Can be sung to "The Gasman Cometh" (Flanders & Swann)
I was staying the night with Matt, and we listened to some Flanders and Swann, and I said "I think I can use that for an idea for a parody" and Matt said "Nah".

 

T’was on the May Day morning that we all got up at dark,
To welcome in the daybreak with a frolic in the park.
They told us that this was the point the god conceived a son
But the thing which just confused me was that dad and child were one.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was on the summer solstice that the poor old oak king died.
And we all stood there and watched it while a number of us cried.
He gave up life for some reason I never really knew;
But they told me it was worthy and it looked convincing, too.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was on the day of Lugh’s big feast we made a man of bread,
And they took a great big sword and then they poked him in the head.
They told us that the god had died to give us all our corn.
But if god was killed at Lughnasadh who died midsummer morn?

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was at the Autumn equinox we all joined hand in hand
And we formed a great big circle and we chanted and we sang.
As there’s nothing going on just now and no one has a clue
Of what it is we celebrate, but that’s what pagans do

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was at Samhain the god went down to join the dead in Hel,
And my brain went down along with him ‘cos far I could tell
The last time that we’d killed him was back three months or so
And I don’t know any mortal being that’d take so long to go.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was at the Yule that I began to wonder what they’re on
When another bleedin’ king got killed while the goddess had a son.
And I couldn’t work out how it was that all the buggers said
That they believed in harming none while a third one lay there dead.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was in the February that they told me the goddess
Who’d had a babe at Yuletide was a virgin nonetheless.
Now I was a bloody Christian ‘til it all stuck in my craw
And this virgin mother business – well, I’ve heard it all before.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was at the Vernal equinox we all joined hand in hand
And we formed a great big circle and we chanted and we sang.
As there’s nothing going on just now and no one has a clue
Of what it is we celebrate, but that’s what pagans do.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

T’was on the May Day morning that I finally had to laugh
When they told me that the son she’d had was now her other half.
And I’m back to join the Christian Church, where hypocrisy is rife,
But they haven’t yet done incest and they never wave a knife.

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do…

© Alexa Duir 2003

He stood there looking uncertain, on the common under dark skies. For a moment there was no car; no farmhouse behind us; and no Sam. There was only Merlin standing in front of me, the cloak hiding his form, save for one black sleeved arm that held a staff that seemed alive.

Under The Skin



 

I wasn’t faking the anger I felt. But the upright hair on my hackles wasn’t entirely down to that. I was also scared shitless. Walking into that was like walking into a storm. Worse, almost immediately my energy began to leave me. I felt tired, and stumbled. As I did, I needed no smell to see the triumph on Black Jack’s face. For once, our gods were wrong, and had betrayed us. I howled my misery.

Remembrance Day

Deep in the forest glades they say,
That since I last came here to stay
A fine voice sings whose tone is fay,
And glimpses seen, of crimson gay
As in Camelot so grand.
But who hath seen this fairy maid?
And why should any be afraid,
Of something armed with fine brocade
Here in my dear Broceliande?

Merlin and Vivian

He pulled over onto the slight verge and we stared at each other. The reaction to what I’d smelled was both physical and emotional. I wanted desperately to change; to run; to fight in the fur. Just to be out of my skin. I hadn’t wanted to put my clothes back on. My teeth and hair had already slipped and I could feel the pressure at the base of my spine where my tail ought to be. What had happened inside was the greater change

Bloodline

This thing called sex, this thing called lust;
it's shown as need, as bump and thrust,
with hand on bum and hand on bust.

But in the fire's dim ember glow,
the shadows melt and sharp lines flow.
There bodies meet and passion know.

To Cass

And I was Michael, now, here. It was I who ran my thumb down the low werewolf hairline that half hid the misshapen tattoo. It was I who bent to kiss it and breathed her name. It was I who ran my hand down the curve of her body. The need for her was a pain inside me that had nothing to do with the physical urge. She was my wolf. My wolf. Beyond that, she was Isolde, someone I had not expected, and I would not give her up. Damn it, not for Declan; not for anyone.

Wyrdwolf

They make of me a monster, and of you a figure of fun.
They talk as though our times are past, as though our day is done.
But while there is still pain and strife, and while there is a lust for life –
Then e’er so long I am your wife,
Your other half

The Morrigan

To In Daghda

that was a form of Russian roulette with the odds stacked against me. Against us. On the basis of what we knew, Michael going to prison was the only certain way of neither of us dying. What a bleak choice.

Remembrance Day

I raised my axe and held fast, waiting for the inevitable. I had been through this so many times before, but each time was new; each was different. Each time was an assault I had to face alone. Cally had proved we could fail. Would this be my time?

Under The Skin

For if upon the host you light
and not with speed avert your sight;
their thrall shall fall upon you straight,
and twined with them shall lie your fate.

And as they ride, your soul be drawn
along their path, until with dawn
shall hie their host under the hill,
and go you too, whate'er your will.

The Faerie Host

What had the original Emrys had been like, the first Merlin? Not like this. But at some stage this is what they had become. Here, in his own house, energy seeped from him constantly, maintaining the plants and the property in a circle of harmony and peace. He was like a wire, connecting the land and the gods.

Wyrdwolf

Let nothing befear thee: let nothing befright thee;
The darkness has passed and dawn's glory is here.
The wingtips that brushed thee, are driven before thee;
The gods shall watch o’er thee, oh child of their heart.

The promise of Protection

What had the original Emrys had been like, the first Merlin? Not like this. But at some stage this is what they had become. Here, in his own house, energy seeped from him constantly, maintaining the plants and the property in a circle of harmony and peace. He was like a wire, connecting the land and the gods.

Wyrdwolf

The passage graves of Ireland and Scotland give us the most dramatic demonstrations of Neolithic culture in terms of communal industry, art, precise architecture and astronomy. Here we find grand structures built to such careful planning that the corbel roofs they created have survived to this day. This was allied with the ability to create the ‘light box’ in Newgrange or gap in Meas Howe to catch the sun at the winter solstice, or the equinoctial sunrise at Loughcrew. How were these great structures built? What was their purpose?

Stone Age Culture

I didn’t ask him where we were. From the fairy light adorning the surrounding hills, it had to be Elfhame. This was the land ruled by the Seelie Court and we were all trespassers.

Luck & Judgement

T’was at the Autumn equinox we all joined hand in hand
And we formed a great big circle and we chanted and we sang.
As there’s nothing going on just now and no one has a clue
Of what it is we celebrate, but that’s what pagans do

Oh it all makes a rite for the pagan-folk to do..

Song - The Wheel of the Year

“If you expect me to believe you can trace your family line back to the frigging Anglo Saxon period or beyond and you’ve all kept your heads down so successfully no one knows who you are, you must expect me to have been born frigging yesterday. And I’ll tell you something for nothing, sunshine – I was not born yesterday. Why the fecking hell would every generation in your frigging family want to keep hidden? It’s not as though you’re frigging -”
The word ‘Merlin’ hung unspoken in the air.

Remembrance Day

Sleek, sorcerous, with sulphur eyes,
Fierce-feral, dappled Bacchus traces
the silver threads of mortal lives;
He treads the spiral dance, he paces
the labyrinth of lost embraces.
Romance made manifest, he charts
The entrance to grimalkin hearts.

Summer Solstice

Max approached me slowly. Now it was his time he seemed reluctant to do what he had threatened for so long. Now that the time had come that I had dreaded, the fear lifted and I prepared myself to fight my mate as if he were a stranger.

Wyrdwolf

if the Inquisition or the Bureau ever found out I’d held this court, it would be a criminal offence. Enough to put me in jail for a while, and so kill me. That was the chance I took every time I made a judgement, and it wouldn’t stop me. Or perhaps, one day, it would. But at this moment, in this place, I would do what I was meant to do.

Luck & Judgement

the Spinner spins a crimson thread
ex nihilo, bred
of no body, blood
of no blood, running red
over the wheel, flood
of tears and wear and tear of years
and bitter woes that flesh inherits
but also joys, fresh merits and unmerits
which the body gives and earns
and which no angel ever learns
by only pure intelligence.

The Weaver

Both the wheel and the swastika – another version of it – were common symbols throughout Europe and Britain, and were associated with a sun deity. Numerous examples are found on dedications and grave goods. In Britain the swastika was particularly associated with the Anglo Saxon god Thunor. It is generally assumed that both indicate the solar cycle, and the rolling of a burning wheel at midsummer would occur at the turn of the solar year.

Article - Wheel of the Year

But the cloaks, amazing as they were, weren’t the most eye-catching thing: that was the staff. I had only glimpsed sight of that once, when Freya briefly gave me a true sight of Michael, five years ago at Aconbury. I’d completely forgotten about it since. More accurately, I’d assumed it didn’t really exist. Now here it was: about five feet of dark, twisting wood, carved with ram horned snakes that moved, topped by a perfect representation of an owl. It turned its head to study the visitors, wooden eyelids blinking.

Remembrance Day

Starlight has an athame, Wodenson an axe;
They all use force to thrust them into other people’s backs.
Dressing up in costumes, playing silly games,
Hiding behind free speech shouting out rude names.

Pagan Wars

Michael reacted instantly, thrusting out his hand to push her back from the circle occupied by the jinni. By doing so, she staggered, losing her balance. Jinn closed in on that part of the outer circle. Michael immediately reversed what he was doing, reached out, closed his fist and yanked back in towards himself, as though pulling in a rope. It was too late.

Under The Skin

It is said that in the Middle Ages Brittany was covered by the forest which was the Broceliande of Arthurian legend.  For those whose familiarity with such legends is bounded by British references, it may come as a surprise to know that the major medieval romances, including Malory, were entirely at home with Arthurian cycle taking place, to a large extent, in Brittany.

Brittany: of Megaliths and Merlin

Marilyn screamed as the blade drove between her and the mara. Or the mara screamed as the silver destroyed it. In that brief moment she was free I whispered to her that she could start again, start afresh. Live without it. But it was no good. I saw a new shadow approach through the walls to occupy her.

Bloodline

Of all the drink that I brought here, I drank it in good company;
And any harm you think I’ve done, alas was done to none but me;
And any harm you think you did, I thankfully now can't recall,
So fill with me the parting glass, goodnight and joy be with you all.

The Pagan Parting Glass

The sound of the gun firing was as much muffled by my flesh as by the silencer. My paws, scrabbling to gain purchase on the ground to enable me to get a better hold, simply gave way under me, as though the nerve cells no longer carried the messages from my brain to the muscles.

Wyrdwolf

many pagans may be surprised to discover that this specific concept of the horned god appears to be a little more recent than many might think, as it derives from the writings of Margaret Murray, in the 1920s.

Who Is Cernunnos

I turned on him, snarling. He hissed back at me. Green eyes to my amber he spat his annoyance and I drew my lips back all the way. I felt my teeth change, the canines growing. This close to total full moon it meant I’d have them now until after the hunt. Oh, absolutely marvellous. The night was getting better by the minute.

Wyrdwolf

Once upon a time there was a coven.
It started life in 1452.
But the family history of each separate member
Went further back as these traditions do.

These are the days, my friend,
Let’s make them never end.
We’ll tell our tales, to crowds of envious fools.
We’ll give them total rot:
We’ll lie an awful lot,
For we can’t lose, we know that we can’t lose.

Traditional Witchcraft

After Vortigern's death, Merlin assists Pendragon, who is now the British king, and his brother Uther in their struggles against the invading Saxons. Just as Merlin has foreseen, a great battle is fought near Salisbury in which Pendragon meets his death. Uther then ascends the throne and adopts the name "Utherpendragon" to honour his brother, and Merlin erects the great stone ring (Stonehenge) on Salisbury Plain as a memorial to the fallen Britons.

Merlin in France

When she spoke, the syllables on the paper took on a guttural life. A flame sparked in the inner circle within the pentagram and flared into something fierce. In the fire was the silhouette of a man, wavering in the heat haze. The light caught us all, except the ghost, whose form reflected nothing.

Under The Skin

It was all bizarrely like something out of a 1970s Hammer horror movie. Did Andrew completely lack any style or was this the sort of thing most magicians actually went in for? There were red and black hangings around the altar, large black and red candles in places, and various symbols drawn on the flagstones and around the altar.

Bloodline

I'm a Heathen by conviction
All things German I've a fix on
But my wife's a proper vixen
So I worship Thor.

Ode to Thor

The wight chose to take a fairly common form similar to a small bogle: a human shape with a pot belly, oversized head, hands and feet, and stick-like arms and legs. A downy fur covered his body. I wasn’t falling for it. All that meant was that he felt friendly towards us, or at least neutral. If we pissed him off he’d take another shape if it suited him. Some of them could be huge and very unpleasant.

Luck & Judgement

In ancient times in Ironwood cold, two ettins and their dam
Ran free in wood and snow and ice, far from the gaze of man.
And one had hair as pale as stars, and one was red as fire;
And both ran wild beneath the moon, beside their shaggy sire.
Oh rose-red maid, Oh snow white maid; they ran beside their sire.

Tyr's Bride