Releases

Search Folklore

The Witch of Wookey Hole

The Witch of Wookey Hole
(Lyrical Guide)

During the dark ages, in the village of Wookey
Lived a young maiden, whose name stands unknown
Devoted to her lover but his actions left her scorned
When she found him cavorting with the ale house whores

The Witch of Wookey Hole

She fled into the cave, of which the locals claimed
Lead down through the dark to the caverns of hell
Her sorrow turned to anger, her pain turned to hate
She called upon the devil, to become her dark mage

That night as she lay, shiverring in dark chambers
A diabolical vision, appeared unto her
In exchange for dark powers, to curse her wayward lover
In return her dead soul, she would relinquish

She cursed her untrue lover, afflicted with the pox
But this man's suffering, could not quell her rage
She turned to other lovers, that she could smite
Using her merciless arts, their lives she could blight

The Witch of Wookey Hole

The Witch of Wookey, resides alone
Her petrified corpse, lies forever in stone
A'top the devil's cauldron, her final resting place
A testimony to her fall from grace
The Witch of Wookey, resides alone,
Her petrified corpse, lies forever in stone
Down the stream of sorrow on the confines of hell
The caves of Wookey is where she fell

I Curse Thee…. Failing crops and mighty storms
I Curse Thee…. Soured milk and plagues of disease
I Curse Thee…. Tainted livestock, cursed love
I Curse Thee…. Fear and chaos, panic and mayhem

A final curse upon young love, caused the man to flee
He took his vows and holy orders in the chuch of Glastonbury
The villagers sent graven word, unto the diocese
To tell the holy abbott of their sufferance and plight
He called on Father Bernard, to be dispatched at once
A master exorcist of necromancers and wizards

The villagers had all now fled, when the monk arrived
He entered the cave with a candle and a bible at his side
The witch was standing hunched over a pool of water
With a wicked smile, a goat and a snarling dog aside

"Rash beyond all reason, why commest thou to look on me?"

The Witch of Wookey, resides alone
Her petrified corpse, lies forever in stone
A'top the devil's cauldron, her final resting place
A testimony to her fall from grace
The Witch of Wookey, resides alone,
Her petrified corpse, lies forever in stone
Down the stream of sorrow on the confines of hell
The caves of Wookey is where she fell

"It is Holy Mother Church that bids thee.
Repent O misguided spirit,
and leave thy wickedness ere judgment overtake thee.
Thou troublest heaven with thy sorceries
and thy mischiefs are abhorred of all mankind.
Repent; put away the powers of evil,
for thy spells shall not avail
thee against the wrath that is to come."

Exorcizo te, omnis spiritus immunde
in nomine Patris, et Spiritus Sanctus

"The witch retreated into a second chamber,
down Hells Ladder and Father followed.
He knelt and gathered a handful of water,
he blessed, and swiftly threw over the witch.
With a ghastly scream, and severed soul
Her body began too slow
She instantly turned unto stone,
where she remains, to this day.... to this day"
​ 

Song of Amergin

Song of Amergin
(Lyrical Guide)

Who (but I) is both the tree and the lightning strikes it
Who is the dark secret of the dolmen not yet hewn

I am a wind across the sea
I am a flood across the plain
I am the roar of the tides
I am a stag of seven (pair) tines
I am a dewdrop let fall by the sun
I am the fierceness of boars
I am a hawk, my nest on a cliff
I am a height of poetry (magical skills)
The song of Amergin

Who knows the path of the sun, the periods of the moon
Who gathers the divisions, enthralls the sea,
sets in order the mountains. the rivers, the peoples

I am the queen of every hive
I am the fire on every hill
I am the shield over every head
I am the spear of battle
I am the ninth wave of eternal return
I am the grave of every vain hope
I am the most beautiful among flowers
I am the salmon of wisdom


Amergin's Invocation of Ireland
I request the land of Ireland (to come forth)
coursed is the wild sea
wild the crying mountains

Calm druids on freezing shore
Within the empire of Taras Kings
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is it who throws light into the meeting in the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the Moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the Sun?
If not I? I invoke the land of Ireland!

​ 

Hell's Kettles

Hells Kettles
(Lyrical Guide)

Deep in the valley of the river tees
In the reign of Henry second
The earth rose high at Oxendale
In the likeness of a lofty tower

And so remained from dawn till dusk
When, sank down with a terrible sound
To the terror of all that heard it
And swallowed up deep into the ground

Hell’s kettles, deepest pools
Lost souls, the Devil’s fools
Hell’s kettles, darkest pits
Where the brightest sunshine never hits

Boiling green sulphurous water
Murky depths of terror
Drowned or eaten alive
By savage eels and pikes

When the sun shines and the water clears
Souls of sinners appear
On gentle breeze its oft said
Their waling cries you’ll hear

Hell’s kettles, deepest pools
Lost souls, the Devil’s fools
Hell’s kettles, darkest pits
Where the brightest sunshine never hits

Instantly he, his carts and his horses,
were all swallowed up in the pools,
where they may still be seen,
on a fine day and clear water, many fathoms deep

Wondrous, deep these darkened pools
That lure and entice passing fools
To drag them down into hell
Not many bear witness and live to tell the tale

Falling deep into the darkness
Struggling to gasp for breath
Descending down into blackness
Cascading into the pools of death

Barnaby Yea Barnaby Nay
A cartload of hay whether god will or nay

​ 

The Old Corpse Road

The Old Corpse Road
(Lyrical Content)

Through glens and thickets, o’er moors and heaths
The funeral procession, marches on
O’er fens and swamplands, and down winding paths
To the destined hallowed ground

From dawn till twighlight and on through the night
The treacherous death parade continues on
The arduous trek to the burial site
Only guided by candlelight

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road
Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road

Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road
Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road

No other route or path the we may take
Unploughed and bare they cannot stray
Non-linear trails are carefully laid
Labyrinths and mazes the wraiths dissuade

At the journeys end, with the cemetery in sight
The coffin is set down on the stone to rest
And at the toll of the lych gate bell
The travellers now rest, another to peace in death

Haunted by fairies and wraiths
And spirits of the deceased
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road
Flowing like rivers along the straight ground
The flitting spectres wretched sound
Even the dead may not be at rest
On the old corpse road
​ 

The Oakmen of Naddle Forest

The Oakman of Naddle Forest

Sit down, be silent
Gather around the fire
The breeze sits gentle
Warm your bones and heed these words

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Saplings sprung from the stumps of felled trees
The fairy wood in which they lurk
Is thrice cut copse and bereft of mercy

Hush now, be silent now
Listen to these words I speak
The Oakmen of the forest
Meet them and you will weep

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Their roots deep in the unseen realm
The fairy wood in which they lurk
An uncanny place after dusk
Tempting people in to the copse
Fungus disguised as tempting fruits
To poison passers on their way
The pungent stench of mushroom decay

The Oakmen of Naddle Forest
Forgotten folk of the British counties
Spawned from murdered old oak trees
The Oakmen of Naddle Forest

Sit down, be silent
Gather around the fire
The breeze sits gentle
Warm your bones and heed these words

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Saplings sprung from the stumps of felled trees
The fairy wood in which they lurk
Is thrice cut copse and bereft of mercy

Hush now, be silent now
Listen to these words I speak
The Oakmen of the forest
Meet them and you will weep

Fairy folks are in old oaks
Their roots deep in the unseen realm
The fairy wood in which they lurk
An uncanny place after dusk
Tempting people in to the copse
Fungus disguised as tempting fruits
To poison passers on their way
The pungent stench of mushroom decay

The Oakmen of Naddle Forest
Forgotten folk of the British counties
Spawned from slaughtered old oak trees
The Oakmen of Naddle Forest

Oak is the king of the forest
That rests in bluebell seas
Damage them on a misty eve
A lost path they will weave

Bluebells, bluebells
It is said
Bluebells, do not tread
​ 

The Wild Hunt Lyrics

The Wild Hunt

One golden autumn Sunday eve
As the leaves began to brown
Contented as I walked alone
I wandered through forest and gate

The moonlight burns my skin
The woodland darkness my kin
As storm clouds cursed close in
I feel the fear begin
The echoes of tales once told
The gales and storm unfold
With galloping hooves and the baying of hounds
The wild hunt comes across the misty mounds

With the coming of the night
Behold the horse man rides
Within this blackened sight
The hounds that chase the stride

My soul, the hunt it takes

The Wild Hunt Tears me from
The earth I held so warm
Now the wild hunt is here
To burn my soul so clear
The winds have swept me up
My body left corrupt
My soul the hunts dark prize
To roam the midnight skies

To roam the midnight skies

For this cannot be me
This deathly sight that I bleed
Yet I do not grieve
Now on lost souls I feed

The furious host now leads
The hunt begins to flee
O’er storming skies we glide
With Gabriels hounds I ride
Looking down in endless wrath
For those foolish enough to cross my path
Swept up in this cavalcade
To join this hunt, to join the raid

With the coming of the night
Behold the horse man rides
Within this blackened sight
The hounds that chase the stride

Do not mock the horde that sweep,
For you soul they will keep
So when you go out at night this winter time
Listen carefully for the barking of dogs and their cry…
​