A true story ...

By Annie Dieu-Le-Veut and APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner)

Words and vocals by © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, February 2024 

I'm most grateful to Andreas for this perfect music for the subject. 

Music by © APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) February 2024 
Find him here: (@api_zz)

Words: 

Long were they known to the Children of Don, 
These waters that run so deep, 
That pulse the heart blood of Avalon, 
And rocks the Beauty who still sleeps. 
Fand, her eye weeps, 
Drops drip, springs seep, 
In dark, underground caverns 
Fluting silvery waters, oh so sweet, 
That carry the salmon to Mabon.

Since ice floes swept these Isles of Honey,
This nectar of Nectan’s Glen, 
Dove’s ambrosia of Aphrodite, 
Or Brigit, as she was known then, 
Sung lullabies, into the night, 
Singing in the age of when 
The sun bird left Cinnamon Lane in flight, 
Soaring at behest of Gwyn. 

Avalon’s waters are sacred, you see, 
Destined for changes in ages. 
These rivers below don’t run to the seas, 
But move at the command of mages 
In the World Tree, sounding the key 
To unlock Earth’s life changes. 
It is by Macmannan of Llyr’s decree, 
Greatest of Celtic sages. 

But it was not his harp that dealt the knell 
Of doom on these sacred waters. 
This HAARP was an instrument of Hell 
Straight from the Den of Plotters. 
To steal the dells, Levels and fells, 
From their rightful owners. 
To bring in huge drills, to frack the wells, 
To rape Morrigan’s daughter. 

The Three Nefarious Blows to Britain 
Could not have done any worse. 
Of those fateful days, it is written, 
Avalon came under curse. 
The Furies rained, Taranis aimed 
Wheels to spin the sea purse, 
As storm waves crashed into pasture plains, 
And the farmers’ fields submersed. 

On the night of the full moon baleful airs 
Smashed the doors of the White Spring 
To pieces, shattered, well past repair, 
It was such a bitter sting. 
Stone dragon on stair, beyond prayer, 
Broken as they found him. 
But Brigit’s flame in her grotto still flared, 
The heart of the Isles of Honey. 


At Burrow Mump, useless handwringers all
 Were photographed for their voters. 
The Prince of Wales claimed he was appalled, 
While on the phone to his broker. 
Gone Chinese walls, the croupier calls 
This game of red hot poker. 
When climate change was blamed as the cause, 
The winner threw down the Joker. 

But all was not lost, despite shriek and beseech, 
The call rang across the leylines, 
Echoed by standing stones and cromlechs, 
“Send a bard who can spell with a rhyme.” 
Men of Harlech, now ithyphallic, 
Thundered down the rhynes , 
“Defend the glassy wall, Fragarach. 
“Lugh’s own Tongue Cannot Lie.” 

And so, this magical sword appeared
At the Avalon Council of Bards. 
To speak through the old Witch,  
“Rhyme it up!” it told the lady smith;
The purge to remove the bane. 
So she intoned the words to entrain, 
That tumbled out like a twin-twisted withe, 
Her tongue could no more contain...

"You wizards and lizards! You boastful bards! 
"By your own ignorance you’re paralysed. 
"The Beli serpent of these Honey Isles 
"Your mute mouths are unable to satirise, 
"Let alone the three fountains he guards."

Then she turned and raised her hands 
to the roiling skies. 

"I command the Three Fountains:
"The fountain of water of air
"The fountain of water of seas
"The fountain of water of earth/fire 
"Be still... and know thy peace.

"All glory to you, victorious Beli,
Who defends the Honey Isles."

The Waters Of Avalon

Poet, author and podcaster on metaphysics, alchemy and shamanism. 

On here, I'm lucky enough to have met a few fellow travellers that help me to bring my poems to life with their inspired musical creations. So if you'd like a collab, do message me.

Hyperfollow: https://hyperfollow.com/anniedieuleveut