Savant, a wise woman, in the greenwood, hidden,

Out of the way,  of all those bastards of the church. 

Her curses took revenge out of the material sphere

Laid an element of fear to cancel wealth and power

We knew the wisdom of the witch and so did those

Dressed in the finest of clothes. If you tried to burn

Her you must reckon that the church knew more than

The old religion that had gone before. Few did. 

In the shadows of the forest, in the dappled of the light,

The druid and the alchemist do their work by night.

Sympathetic magic, the strength through empathy,

The rising of the poor and the buzzing of the bee. 

To claim the old religion, to see through darkened

Shades, I have to speak as if I'm in my grave.