To him oh shame, they're children, piteous babes They slay their blood, they poured out in his name With wailing cries and tears and rue Called sadness need as pain they knew
The land of old centuries past has a story to be told From a time known as the iron age to the present secrets they do hold Scotland, Denmark, Ireland and the British isle shores Home the history of Druid worship and the Celtic tales unfold
Darkening themselves with grim understandings of mystic Celtic gods Blood thirsty for their ritualistic slaughter they commit human life To death they fall in wasted form to appease the earth and gods Burned and slashed and drained of blood they're given in vain with ease
With grim grappling they reared this wind worm Rain racked ring of late Someone digging found a drift of white pebbles A bronze knife and children's fire charred bones
Circular stones erected as a place of sacredness Arranged for their temple of dedicatory offerings Monumentarily built thousands of years before the Lord's birth These stones cradled little children to their incinerated death
Beltain fires burned a blaze atop the hills Waiting for offerings they kill for the sake of the living The fear of sickness and famine compel to dance this ceremony The sun and the moon is for them death and life as they pass Their fateful tears through this wicked age
Intervening the church witness the need for reform on their Godless pagan day Yeilding to these calendar high points but people yearn for these festive times They change the name of their holiday to assume Christian status Will they forsake ceremonies of old, do the religions of the seasons fade away?
Now a day given much feeding as children dress For trick or treat but under false lying pretense Is the Autumn festival of Samhain Funny how we celebrate the innocent slain
Through wars and age the practice seems to have passed away But traces of that dark culture still surface today Our culture plagued with fear and superstition as true evil Burns it's way through the age, will it's never ending Destructive touch find a place in your life?
Our ancestry to these spirits Life was given so life could be sustained And forthright season by season, death by death Through that brief generation Of that departed age Brings us now to the present And much can be explained