Cyber Cauldron

Although i do not remember where i got all of these chants they have been a part of my book of shadows and i apologise to anyone who name i am not sure of and can not credit you with your inspiring works

Lughnasadh

Rev. Raven Spirit 2002

Waning days

Waving grain

The summer months begin to fade

The horned one walks to the shades

Day of first fruits

You reap what you sow

Is your grain all bland

Or with flavor, you know

Nines months we have nurtured

And cared for our goals

Now we are birthing

Like mother and foal

The seeds we have planted

Watered and helped grow

We now begin harvesting

The seeds we have sown

But the growing is not over

More cycles to pass

So weed your fields

Err it be your ass

Tis a time of great merriment

Games to be played

To honored the ancients

And the wisdom they say

Hail to Fair Tailltiu

For whom the games are named

That tests the skill and knowledge of both me and you

Lughnasadh

Fields of listening, whispering corn

Ripen in the heavy air

Lugh the Golden dancing forth,

Leaves and sheaves in his wild hair.

In perfect circles bow the stalks,

Mark the path where great Lugh walks,

Mark days and seasons, round they go,

As above, so below.

Grainne and Diarmuid meet

Clasping in the heady air,

Loving in the dolmen’s shadow,

Lost deep in her corn-sweet hair.

And his Moon follows her Sun,

Marks the way where she has gone,

Marks how love and life must be,

Each follows his own destiny.

Misty sun and steaming rain

Upon the pregnant, swelling earth.

Drying trees and tiring fields

Await the mystery of birth.

Now, in her ecstatic sleep

Mark she opens, dark and deep.

Mark, the Neolithic tomb

Pulses, like a throbbing womb.

Poppies scarlet on the gold,

Slashing, gory, gaudy red.

Colour brash and petals frail,

Bright life cut down, blown away, dead.

Now he lies down on the fields.

Mark, his life he freely yields

Mark the blood upon the corn

All that dies shall be reborn

Lughnasadh

What you sow comes back to thee,

Flower, grain, grass, fruit, and tree,

What you reap be thankful for,

Return a piece and reap some more.

The Lady with her belly full,

The Lord has taken on the bull,

Full of promise… rising hope,

That through the winter we shall cope.

The golden stalks of wheat and corn,

Our hearth and larder do adorn,

Oat and barley from fertile field,

Honored is the gift they yield.

Cakes of Oat,

Ale of Barley,

Bread of Wheat,

Ears of Corn,

To feed the hunger,

To quench the thirst,

From the land,

This harvest first.

What you sow comes back to thee,

Flower, grain, grass, fruit, and tree,

What you reap be thankful for,

Return a piece and reap some more.

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