Come back and haunt me
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.