Green Book Of Meditations Volume 6 The Books of Songs - Student ...

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Lughnasasdh Night (translated by Emmon Bodfish) Eho! Ho! A king oh! Eho! Ho! A king oh! Last night was the first night of Fomhar. Eho! Ho! To a king of a youth, oh! Eho! Ho! To a king. Oh Heifer of them of the Rue Flower Last night I heard the tumultuous delight. Eh! Ho! A king oh! Between the head of the Bay and the ford. Eho! Ho! To a king of a youth, oh! Eho! Ho! To a king. O Heifer of them of the Rue flower. Not the sound of baying, and not the voice of hunting dogs, the voice of woman at the height of her joy. Eho! Ho! To a king oh! Oh! Indeed, she made the choice; she took the unfortunate one and left the choice one. She took the wise, ingenious boy. Ring, of Plenty, Folding Ho! Folding, plaiting… Come and get me a husband. Wreath, Plenty, Folding, Braiding. Ho! Of the Braiding. Notes: The line of the Heifer is archaic spelling and uncertain meaning The unfortunate one could refer to the god, Lugh’s , death at Lughnasa or may have even older allusions to the Corn King tradition, and the sacrifice of the incarnate god. An Coineachan Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og O, Goiridh og O, Goiridh og O; Ho-bhan, ho-bhan, Goiridh og O, I’ve lost my darling baby O! I left my darling lying here, A-lying here, a lying here; I left my darling lying here, To go and gather blueberries. I’ve found the wee brown otter’s track, The otter’s track, the otter’s track; I’ve found the wee brown otter’s track, But ne’er a trace of baby O! I found the track of the swan on the lake, The swan on the lake, the swan on the lake; I found the track of the swan on the lake, But not the track of baby O! I found the track of the yellow fawn, The yellow fawn, the yellow fawn; I found the track of the yellow fawn, But could not trace my baby O! I’ve found the trail of the mountain mist, The mountain mist, the mountain mist; I’ve found the trail of the mountain mist, But ne’er a trace of baby O! 368 Mo Bhata, Boat Song Ho, my bonnie boatie, Thou bonnie boatie mine! So trim and tight a boatie Was never launched on brine. Ho, my bonnie boatie, My praise is justly thine Above all bonnie boaties Were builded on Loch Fyne! Ho mo bhata laghach, ‘S tu mo bhata grin; Ho mo bhata laghach, ‘S tu mo bhata grin. Ho mo bhata laghach, ‘S tu mo bhata grin: Mo bhata boidheach laghach, Thogadh taobh Loch Fin. To build thee up so firmly, I knew the stuff was good; Thy keel of stoutest elm-tree, Well fixed in oaken wood; Thy timbers ripely seasoned Of cleanest Norway pine Well cased in ruddy copper, To plough the deep were thine! Ho mo bhata etc. How lovely was my boatie At rest upon the shore, Before my bonnie boatie Had known wild ocean’s roar. Thy deck so smooth and stainless, With such fine bend thy rim, Thy seams that know no gaping, Thy masts so tall and trim. Ho mo bhata, etc. Talking With Trees She looks in the house and she nobody sees. We go up to his room and his rug’s full of leaves, And all his new trousers have pitch on the knees. Chorus: Out in the woods is he, talking with trees! Talking and walking and stalking with trees Up in the high hills catching the breeze, Out in the woods is he, talking with trees! It’s late in the night he should be cuttin’ “zzz’s” He’s out of the window by shadowy leas Down in the Wild wood where nobody sees, Chorus. All alone by the circle of stones by the sea, At night by the light of the moon on the leaves, You can see him go dancing on magical knees,
Chorus Aunt Hann, she come s down with her baskets of cheese, Of cookies and cakes to tempt and to tease, To try and to teach him some sense if you please, [But] Chorus The Mountain Streams With my robe and staff through the purple heather One evening it was I took my way. I met a lass, she was tall and slender. Her eyes entreated me a while to stay. “Oh Roving Droi, Do you know I love you? Tell me your name and your dwelling also. Excuse my name, but you’ll find me dwelling by the Mountain streams where the Moorcocks grow. If my parents cause me to wed a farmer, I’ll be tied for life to one plot of land. You’re a roving Droi, Let me go with you, And I’ll give you my hand. Ah, but if your parents knew that You love a rover, I fear that would be my overthrow. So I’ll bide alone, love, For another season, By mountain streams where the Moorcocks grow. And in the turning of another season, We’ll meet again in yon woodland vale. And I’ll sit you down, love, All on my knee, then, And listen to your lovesick tale. And it’s False Solomon’s Seal We’ll go a gathering In the woods and the valleys below. Where the linnets sing their songs so sweetly By the mountain streams where the Moorcocks grow.” With my robe and staff through the purple heather One evening it was I took my way. I met a lass, she was tall and slender. Her eyes entreated me a while to stay. 369 Poems of the Season From our Server, Susan Press of Live Oak Grove Received 2002 From Stacey, but the date of authorship is uncertain. Solstice Winter has come, The song has been sung, The days have been white and cold. The dark has been deep, The earth was asleep, Dreaming a dream of old. Now hear Her blood drum, For the time has come, For the days to grow long and warm. For the dark becomes light, And the earth will take flight, Greeting the Sun’s return. Nights of Winter In deep of winter, In the middle of the night, Jack Frost paints your windows With nary a light. Look thru his icy artwork, Know each to be unique, You’ll see a starlit world revealed, A world that some would seek. A world that is within, without, A fragile world of wonder and glitter A world that from his paintbrush flows, In the deep, dark nights of winter. Walk Amongst the Trees -Published Druid Missal-any 2, Winter Solstice 2000 Murmuring softly, Father Winter walks amongst the trees, gently easing them into sweet white slumber. He stops to rest with those who keep vigil during the long winter, the Holly, the Mistletoe, & the Evergreen. They are old, old friends & pass the long white winter sharing tales & talking of things they have seen & heard throughout their long lives. Go walk amongst the trees. Be quiet and still, listen for their voices & then for their wisdom. Share with them your dreams, your wonders & your woes, for they will become the substance of tales told in the future......the knowledge & wisdom of the trees.
Page 1 and 2:
Green Book Of Meditations Volume 6
Page 3 and 4: Nowhere Man Here Comes the Sun May
Page 5 and 6: Volume Seven 2003 2002-2003 Bardic
Page 7 and 8: Oimelc Hymn (for use during Communi
Page 9 and 10: The Falling Asleep of the Mother of
Page 11 and 12: A Celebration of Summer (A Medieval
Page 13 and 14: 4 Throughout that pulsing Pagan nig
Page 15 and 16: He is the sun god! He is the one go
Page 17 and 18: a green grassy field in Night's dar
Page 19 and 20: By Michael April 6th, 1992 The Came
Page 21 and 22: By Scott Stearns The cruelest joke
Page 23 and 24: The world's end and neutralization,
Page 25 and 26: Sounds of Silence Hello darkness my
Page 27 and 28: ED E ED E//E-A-/B7- ED E I see the
Page 29 and 30: Turn, Turn, Turn Chorus: To everyth
Page 31 and 32: What’s so amazing that keeps us s
Page 33 and 34: Apollo taught me to rhyme, Orpheus
Page 35 and 36: Watch the river flow, Watchin' the
Page 37 and 38: Rosemary Words by Robert Hunter; mu
Page 39 and 40: Watch the Field Behind the Plow By
Page 41 and 42: A mountain's in the middle, with a
Page 43 and 44: To all we touch And on... To heal t
Page 45 and 46: Hymn to the Three Brighids Verse fo
Page 47 and 48: It is on my lonely journey I were t
Page 49 and 50: Down with it! Up with it! Strike th
Page 51 and 52: “Aye me! What a mischief I have d
Page 53: A Phiuthrag’s a Phiuthair (Little
Page 57 and 58: If the gods cannot offer the keys t
Page 59 and 60: Stillness. The silence broken only
Page 61 and 62: Where the wandering water gushes Fr
Page 63 and 64: Holly logs will burn like wax, You
Page 65 and 66: Only six and thirty years had he, a
Page 67 and 68: People of the Oak We are the people
Page 69 and 70: (pg 24 of Nuadh Bardach) Love's Col
Page 71 and 72: Indicate the song & original author
Page 73 and 74: Walking those woods once more Lovin
Page 75 and 76: I Told The Arch Druid (A.K.A. “I
Page 77 and 78: I found sacred space Now I'm a beli
Page 79 and 80: There’s many a land that is still
Page 81 and 82: ************ Bardic Salvo #8: Feb 1
Page 83 and 84: So, here we are again going our sep
Page 85 and 86: I Can’t Help Falling Asleep at Ni
Page 87 and 88: Thinkin' how YOU did me wrong And I
Page 89 and 90: ALL They've stopped such colorful e
Page 91 and 92: ... bless me with the joy that resi
Page 93 and 94: ******* Bardic Salvo #5: Dec. 26th,
Page 95 and 96: Number One is the loneliest Number
Page 97 and 98: ****** Bardic Salvo #8: Feb. 15th,
Page 99 and 100: Daylight, I must wait for the sunri
Page 101 and 102: ****** Bardic Salvo #11: April 1st,
Page 103 and 104: She sat at the edge of a pond, weep
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Volume Eight 2003 The Soul of Julia
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would forget to pay attention and j
Page 109 and 110:
“Tea.” I told her. “Drink.”
Page 111 and 112:
Chapter Ten The morning they left I
Page 113 and 114:
not even see. I have been more of a
Page 115 and 116:
Chapter Eighteen Now I grow weary o
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