From Tuatha Dea's The Tribe album that features songs with guest Pagan musicians. Viva The Tribe!

Tuatha Dea - Irish Handfasting Featuring Damh The Bard

Sons And Daughters (of Robin Hood)

Verse 1
Take a look at your TV screen,
It’s a window bright and clean,
Another wife swapped,
What does it all mean?
Elder Brother you’re never wrong,
Show weak people acting strong,
So I look outside,
To see the green.

Chorus
Do you dream of drinking from the Grail?
That the truth is held within a tale,
And Arthur sleeps now, ready to return?
Do you know that Jack lives in the Green,
That things are never as they seem,
And life is more than the money that your earn.

Verse 2
Rhiannon rides her horse,
It’s just a tale of course,
An old story,
Of times gone by.
But sit with me on this hill,
See how things become so still,
And who is that Lady,
Riding high?

Verse 3
Spring has come and have you seen,
The Morris dancers on the green?
Just a bit of fun,
To pass the days.
But there is magic in their dance,
The season’s blessed and not by chance,
So I raise my glass,
To our Pagan Ways.

Pagan Ways

Pipes of Pan

(Damh the Bard)

The idea for this song came about while I was driving across Dartmoor, and having to quickly avoid some of the local drivers. I began to wonder how long you had to live in a place before you stopped seeing the beauty that surrounded you. Before the journey stopped mattering, and the arrival was all that existed…

Can you hear the distant thunder?
Can you see the Moon in the sky?
I can see a full horizon, the Sun raising his eye.
Arms lifted to greet the dawn,
As fiery eyes of wisdom shine,
A father dead, a Son of Suns,
A tear wiped away with a smile.

(Chorus)
All of my life I have seen many offerings,
To the Gods and all the wonder that they hold.
But how many people really can, hear the pipes of Pan?
As they sound across our sacred land of old.

I can see a cloven hoof falling,
On the bare skin of the Earth.
I can see life returning, feel the triple One’s rebirth.
Golden light dapples across the woodland,
As the Piper dances and plays his tune.
Herne the Hunter, Horned One,
Spirit of Man to the Moon.

Can you hear the pipes of Pan
On the warm Summer breeze?
If you can, can you feel him deep within you
As he penetrates the land?
May blossom to the bee,
The nectar of love is on her skin.
Heat returns as passions rise
And Beltane’s dance begins, once again.

Pipes Of Pan from Herne's Apprentice

Hills they are Hollow

(Damh the Bard)

I wrote this on the same day as Grimspound, during my visit to Dartmoor. This song was written whilst sitting in the stone circle at Merrivale on Dartmoor and, like the Song of Awen, really sums up my view of Spirit.

As I walk upon this green land,
This land that love,
I see figures of chalk,
Carved into the hillsides above.
Cerne Abbas a man so proud,
And the Long Man opens wide the gates of his world,
And invites you to step inside.

(Chorus)
And the hills they are hollow and home to the Fey,
Who dance on Midsummer’s Eve,
Some people don’t understand when I say,
These are the things I believe.
These are the tings I believe.

There is an old circle of stones,
That stands on the moor,
Every moss-covered face,
Tells the secrets of ancient lore.
The Tors stand as guardians,
Witnesses to the Rites of Nature’s Gods,
Of Darkness and of Light.

Let’s sing of the mystery,
Of Sacred Land,
See the shapes in the corn,
Made by invisible hands,
Secrets of the Pagan Ways,
Lie all around,
Written upon the Earth,
In rock and Sacred Mound!

The Hills They Are Hollow from The Hills They Are Hollow

Isis Unveiled

(Damh the Bard)

There was no denying it, for the first time in many years I was being visited by a Goddess from another land. Isis had always been a Goddess who had inspired me, but I had never written a song for her until this time. I had just bought a new mandola and was ‘noodling’ around with it, just playing around with notes, when this middle-eastern style riff came from out of nowhere. I continued playing, and it was like it had a life of its own, moving into a very nice key change – the Awen was flowing, and a song was on the way….

I put the mandolin down, and went to one of my altars to collect my figure of Isis – she is standing, one winged-arm outstretched, the other pointing to the ground. I placed her in on the table in front of me, and continued to play the tune. Before long the words were flowing, and her story was being told – from the game that formed her, to the reconstruction of Osiris, I saw a shadow formed by the light of the full moon, and within that shadow I watched as Set emerged from the darkness. I saw a coffin, floating down the nile, I saw her tears of joy falling onto the desert sand, bringing new live from the barren soil. I was exhausted when it was done, but also very much at peace – a story told, a Goddess honoured.

Play the game create the time,
With every move and line,
Jackal God against the Moon,
And the game will be over soon.
Can you hear the Earth sighing?
As he turns towards the sky,
The time of Ra is ending,
And the Sun begins to die.

Chorus
Can you feel it changing?
Can you see her in the night?
Can you feel it changing?

Sky and Earth they are as one,
Conceive daughter and sons,
Sister, lover, Goddess, Queen,
Mother to every living being,
Your light creates a shadow,
As you show your face unveiled,
Your brother Set betrays you,
There’s a coffin on the Nile.

Fourteen pieces to the wind,
To all parts of the land,
Scattered widely she will find,
And make a lover from her hands,
The rain, her tears of gladness,
Fall to the fertile ground,
And Set caught in his madness,
To the desert he is bound.

Isis Unveiled from Spirit of Albion

Pagan Ways

(Damh the Bard)

In the Summer of 2007 I had a direct run in with modern popular culture when the Trinny and Suzanna show organised a stunt where 100 women, dressed in white plastic suits, climbed all over theLong Man of Wilmington for a stunt to visually turn him into a woman. Each year our old sites are vandalised and damaged and many local Sussex people thought that this was a bad image to show to 7,000,000 viewers so we protested against the event. When I returned home, this song appeared.

Take a look at your TV screen,
It’s a window bright and clean,
Another wife swapped,
What does it all mean?
Elder Brother you’re never wrong,
Show weak people acting strong,
So I look outside,
To see the green.

(Chorus)
Do you dream of drinking from the Grail?
That the truth is held within a tale,
And Arthur sleeps now, ready to return?
Do you know that Jack lives in the Green,
That things are never as they seem,
And life is more than the money that your earn.

Rhiannon rides her horse,
It’s just a tale of course,
An old story,
Of times gone by.
But sit with me on this hill,
See how things become so still,
And who is that Lady,
Riding high?

Spring has come and have you seen,
The Morris dancers on the green?
Just a bit of fun,
To pass the days.
But there is magic in their dance,
The season’s blessed and not by chance,
So I raise my glass,
To our Pagan Ways.

Pagan Ways from The Cauldron Born

Hal an Tow

(Traditional)

Hal an Tow is based on a traditional Cornish May Day song (sung in Helston on the 8th May) with Hal and Tow possibly meaning ‘Hoist the Roof’.

Take no scorn to wear the horn
it was the crest when you were born
Your father’s father wore it
Your father wore it, too

{Chorus}
Hal-an-tow
Jolly-rum-ba-low
We were up
long before the day-o
To welcome in the summer
To welcome in the May-O
For Summer is a coming in
and Winter’s gone away-O

Robin Hood and Little John
Have both gone to the Fair-O
and we will to the Merry Green-Wood
to hunt the buck and hare-O

What happened to the Spaniard
That made so brave the boast-O
That they would eat the feathered goose,
And we would eat the roast-O

The Lord and Lady bless you
With all their power and might-O
And bring their peace upon us
Bring peace by day and night-O

Hal An Tow from Tales from the Crow Man

Antlered Crown and Standing Stone

(Damh the Bard)

A rousing anthem dedicated to the male principle of nature – the Pagan Horned God. Continuing the theme of previous songs such as Green and Grey, Noon of the Soltice and Pipes of Pan. This is a song to honour Cernunnos, Pan, Herne, and the Green Man.

I am the face within the leaves,
I’m the voice within the trees,
I am boy, I am man,
The face of the changing land,
And I have been your constant guide,
From your caves on the mountainside,
We have walked hand in hand.

And everywhere that I have been,
My passing turns the grey to green,
The birds sing to the dawn,
And the land has awoken,
Oh my lady lays with me,
And our love weaves a tapestry,
Eternal threads, unbroken.

(Chorus)
I am lover, I am father,
I am Horned God and King,
I’m the life in all of nature,
That is reborn every Spring.
Call of stag and cry of eagle,
I am Child of Barleycorn,
And I am the antlered crown,
And standing stone.

I am the oats the corn and grain,
A bearded man with a crooked cane,
Cut me down, I must die,
For the land to be born again.
But don’t you cry and don’t you grieve,
For soon the Wild Hunt I will lead,
On the night of Samhain.

The air is cold, the sky is grey,
Where am I this Winter’s day,
Bones of trees, fallen leaves,
The time of the Winter Queen,
But through the wind and snow and rain,
Know that a part of me remains,
Holly stands, evergreen.

Antlered Crown And Standing Stone from Antlered Crown And Standing Stone

Lady of the Silver Wheel - Live - from As Nature Intended

The Wheel

(Damh the Bard)

This song is a love song between the God and Goddess. It tells of the God’s birth, their meeting, their love within the Greenwood, and his death, at her hands, in the corn fields. But he waits in the earth for her to return, and together they will rule in the Otherworld, until his rebirth in the Spring.

As the sunrise
on the shortest day
my crying greets the dawn.
Tears of dew form on the web
As I am reborn.
Feel new life spring
from the Earth,
As the Mother of All Life
gives birth.
Though I am a child
I will soon become a man.

Feel the warmth upon your skin,
Sense the animal inside.
As every creature on the land,
Feels the rising tide.
The natural rhythms
of the land,
As the Goddess takes my hand,
Into the Forest Green
with the Horned Man.

The waves of corn
have turned to gold,
My time is drawing near.
I see my Lady smile at me,
Inside I feel no fear.
As She raises the scythe
above Her head.
Blood spills on the Earth
as I fall dead,
In the Otherworld
I guard Her throne
’til She returns

The Wheel from Spirit of Albion

Song of Awen

Awen is the ‘flowing spirit’ of Bardic inspiration and creativity. I wanted to write a song that summed up how I felt about the beauty, and wonder, of the natural world. A song that filled me up every time I heard the lyrics, as it told of how the Gods show themselves to us everyday through the world of nature.Song of Awen was the result.

(Damh the Bard)

See me as the Sun on the mountaintop,
Feel me in the power of the seas.
Hear me in the laughter of the stream,
Power of nature, power of the trees.

Bridge:
It is you who are broken,
You are part of me,
Some of you have awoken,
But others might never be free.

Chorus:
This is my song, this is my voice,
These are my words, this is my choice.
Hear me now, take heed of my words.
Love me now, and your spirit will fly.

Hear me in the howling of the wolf,
My voice is the song of the Bards,
I am the power that helps the salmon leap,
I am the very first breath of a child.

I am the wild, and I am the tame,
I am the calm and I am the storm.
I am the sound of your beating heart,
I am your blood and I am your bone.

Bridge 2:
It is you who are broken,
You are part of me,
There is no seperation,
So dance, sing and be free.

Song Of Awen from Herne's Apprentice

Land, Sky and Sea
(Damh the Bard)

The ancient Celtic peoples seemed to have revered three elements instead of the usual four found in the Western Magical tradition – these being Land, Sky and Sea. I’m sure that fire would have featured somewhere because we know that they also revered the Sun. But here’s a song that speaks of the Wild Places, and my connection to them.

You are the rock, and you are the stone,
Rivers your blood, mountains your bone.
You are the Source, of all I’ll ever know,
Forever my Mother, forever my home.

(Chorus)
Oh this town is so cold,
Neon magicians they offer the fools their gold.
For there is a place I’d rather be,
In your wild places with the Land and the Sky and the Sea

Every step, follows those gone before,
Mystics and Saints, down to the shore,
Echoing waves, and the curlew’s cry,
A call out your name, and hear your reply.

Cynical thoughts, and lies that distort,
All that is true, all that is true,
They disappear, when I feel that you’re near,
When I’m with you, when I’m with you.

Land Sky And Sea from The Cauldron Born

Samhain Eve

(Damh the Bard)

Modern Halloween can seem a little commercial these days, but there was a time when, for some, this night was filled with fear. Some of the old Celtic tales tell of the way that, at Samhain, the veil between the world is at its thinnest. The Faerie, and the dead walk this earth once more. So let’s bring a bit more of the fear-factor into this sacred night, but not a fear borne of fright, but of awe.

Close the door, keep out the storm,
Far away, far away,
Keep the need-fires burning til dawn,
Oh, leave my soul.
For the cold will come this night,
From far away, far away,
Frost will fall ,and ice will bite,
Oh leave my soul.

Bridge 1:
Oh leave my soul,
Please pass me by when the evening falls,
Oh blessed are we,
The Taker of Souls we shall see.
On Samhain Eve.

I can hear the Hunter’s hounds
Far away, far away,
I will cast the Circle round,
Oh leave my soul.
Raven-witch I feel your breath,
Far away, far away,
Bringing with you Summer’s death,
Oh leave my soul.

Sunrise, the tolling bell,
Far away, far away,
Breaks the Raven-witches spell,
Oh blessed are we.
The leaves of the Oaken King,
Fade away, fade away,
Feed the seeds that will come in Spring
Oh blessed are we.

Bridge 2:
Oh blessed are we,
Summer will come with the May on the tree,
Oh hail to the Queen,,
And under the Sun we shall sing,
To call in the Spring.

Samhain Eve from Hills they are Hollow

On Midwinter’s Day

(Damh the Bard)

Millions of Xmas songs are played all over the world at that time of year. I wanted to write a song that anyone could play during their Winter Solstice celebrations. It’s great to have deep, meaningful songs, but it’s also important to just have fun. I think there are elements in this song that do both.

Now that Samhain is over,
And the Sidhe have returned to their home,
The dead have followed the Raven’s song,
And no longer among us they roam.
The wisdom of our ancient past,
Show us how to ride the storm,
For their tombs they swallow the rising sun,
And the Mabon is always reborn.

(Chorus)
So come all you people, come and sing with me,
Join our voices, and sing the long nights away,
All over the land, a chorus of voices will sing,
For the rising Sun on Midwinter’s Day.

The land may be barren and lifeless,
The ground may be frozen and hard,
And the rain that fell has now turned to ice,
The Winter is showing her card,
But now the Sun king has rested,
And his eyes have turned to the Earth,
For three days the Sun has been still in the sky,
But the time has now come for his birth.

Some say Jesus was born today,
Some say he is the Mabon,
Some say that he is the Son of God,
And others the Son of the Sun,
Others they listen in the woodland,
For the call of Herne,
Others they hear the clash of swords,
For the Oak King will return!

On Midwinter's Day from The Cauldron Born

A tale for Lughnasadh by Cerri Lee

“If you stand here for long enough all life passes you by.” he expounded sagely to no one in particular.

The golden barley swayed in the gentle breeze; The collective bearded heads nodding in what appeared to be, at least to him, considered agreement.

A large dragonfly hummed past skimming the heads of the barley.

“Well at least they seem to be doing alright this year,” he said to the world in general, “Its been a hard few years for them, well for everyone really, my oath it has! I don’t know, Summers are not like they used to be.” He rambled on in the time honoured fashion of old men who lean on fence posts everywhere.

“I remember a time when Summer meant warmth and sunshine, long hazy days with children running in the fields, and the happy sounds of bees buzzing through the crops. These days it seems to be one long winter with a brief break for rain instead of snow!’ If he could have shaken his head ruefully he would have done.

The Barley continued to nod thoughtfully as the sun beat down on the field.

“Mind you,” he continued informationally “there was a time when the fields where not so big and the weather was just as dodgy as it has been lately. I think they called it the ‘little ice age’, snow drifts up to your arm pits there was. So would seem to me the weather patterns are up and down like a doxies bloomers, if you take the long view, not that I know much about doxies you understand” he said and chuckled.

The barley pointedly said nothing on the subject.

A pair of sky larks rose up out of the field and began to sing incessantly flitting back and forward, landing on a post or taller plant here or there, then rising up again, renewing their frantic song.

“Whats got their tails in a twist?” he mused.

If it had been possible he would have craned his neck for a better view into the barley, but instead he settled for a guessing game as to who had disturbed the little pair. “Might be a stoat or could be a weasel, or might be one of them cats from the farm yard wandering about causing trouble.”

The birds seemed to quieten down after a bit and settled back into what ever it is that skylarks are want to do.

“Oh, whatever it was has got bored and left them alone. Well that’s my bit of drama done for the day then” he sniffed disconsolately.

Presently a cat came sauntering out of the barley and stood in front of him. “Ah it was you was it?” he said. The cat looked up, eyed him suspiciously, then sat down to lick its paws and clean its face.

“I hope you haven’t been murdering any of those little fledglings,” he said reproachfully to the preening cat “I have been watching them grow all season and I have grown fond of them little tikes.”

The cat ignored him and continued to clean assiduously before finally standing up. Then with a flick of its perfectly groomed tail, aimed in his general direction, it stalked off.

“Charming!” he thought.

The sun was high in the sky making the shadows cling close to their makers; the air was still leaving the barley almost motionless.

“I am glad of this hat to keep that sun at bay, battered and torn it may be, but there was never a better hat than this. Had it for years I have.  And this old jacket too, though the buttons could do with a bit of attention, hanging by a thread one of them, but still, it keeps out the worst of the weather.” He assessed his apparel with some pride.

“I dare say some as would venture it is a bit the worse for wear, but well, it does for me working out here in the field.”

The sultry afternoon wore on, the shadows lengthened and he watched as the light began to throw an orange glow into the golden barley.

“You are ready old friend, I know that colour in your beard. You and me John, you and me, we will take that long road together.” There was a wistful note in his words and the barley seemed to whisper an accord, and, as if to echo the sentiment, a crow issued out over the field, a long, low, throaty call.

“They will sing to you old friend, that they will. There where three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try……” He sang with a dusty voice. “I love that song, that I do” he laughed.

“But no song for me, eh John? No song for me.” There was no bitterness in his words “I don’t mind, really I don’t. I love my time here, and like you, I will be back next year, though I would like it if they would sew my button back on, maybe patch up these trousers a bit. Them mice have made fair ol’ mess out o’ them this year and no mistake.”

“Come on Daddy, I want to see ol’ Charlie.” The scruffy child ran ahead of her father who was walking slowly through the barley, feeling the heads and sometimes bending to smelling them.

“I’m coming; ol’ Charlie’s not going anywhere tonight, is he?” he called and continued to amble through the field. He was taking his time, drinking in the atmosphere, the marmalade light, the smell of the barley and the earth, it all made his heart sing.

“Come on” the impatient child urged. Her father laughed as he looked to see where she had gone. He looked in the direction of ol’ Charlie’ and saw the barley moving under the onslaught of the robust and determined six year old.

“Look Dad, there have been mice living in his pockets again. We will have to get Mum to sew them up.” The girl looked up at Charlie for a moment, then turned and threw her arms around her Dad’s legs.

“We will make him again next year wont we Dad?” her face almost pleading.

“Of course,” He confirmed “you can’t have John Barley Corn alone in the field, wouldn’t be right!”

“And we will still burn him when we cut the fields, just like last year?” she looked so seriously at her father he did not laugh.

“You know we will, he has to take our messages and gifts with him doesn’t he?” The farmer said “It’s what we have always done on this farm, when you make a bargain you keep it, especially if it’s with the one who keeps you in food and lodgings, it doesn’t do to make Her sad by forgetting your promises. We will make sure his hat and clothes are nicely cleaned and mended for next year, but the rest of him will go on the fire, and, this year I have decided to write him a song to send him on his way. Now come on lets get back your Mum will have tea on the table soon and I am starving, race you!”

Ol’ Charlie watched as the pair ran back across the field, “My own song eh? Well there you go, did you hear that John? I will have a song after all.”

A fat pigeon came down and landed on his arm which creaked under the weight. The bird eyed the field, “And you can bugger off an all” said ol’ Charlie.

A Tale for Lughnasadh by Cerri Lee

In the beginning there was the Void.
And in that Void there was silence.
But there came upon the Void a Sacred Breath,
And thus the Void began to turn.
And in that turning a shape emerged,
Moving, turning, drawing in,
Edges of the Void began to form,
And as the edges formed they became like iron,
So the shape grew into that of the great Spinning Cauldron.
And the Cauldron held the Void within its heart.

As the Cauldron turned so it created the first sound,
A single note that filled the Void,
A voice singing in praise of its own creation,
A voice that called into the Void,
And that note became a word,
And the word was Don,
And Don became the earth, and rock, and stone,
And thus it was that land was formed.

Don sang her note of the Land,
But Don was lonely.
She was dark and barren,
So Don wept in her loneliness,
And her salt tears became the seas, rivers and oceans,
And so it was that the Cauldron sung its second note,
And harmony was born into the darkness,
As the note of Land, joined with the note of sea,
Llyr raised his head from the water,
Don felt his kiss upon her skin,
With every breaking wave.
And she smiled.

So the sea caressed the land,
Llyr’s touch upon her dark skin,
And Don sighed with pleasure,
As a third note was sung,
And the harmony became a song,
The breath of love,
Of Llyr and Don,
Of sea and land,
Created the sky,
And Beli Mawr opened his shining eye,
And there was light.

A Celtic Creation Story - Damh the Bard

A passionate celebration song dedicated to the Spring Equinox.

Raise the Flag of Green

Raise The Flag Of Green

A song inspired by the old woodcuts that show Witches dancing with a horned figure from the times of the Witch hunts and the ‘Hammer of the Witches‘, the Inquisition (nobody ever expected them, apparently), Images that can still cut to the heart of some who see them, particularly those who still believe in a Dennis Whealtey-esque occult fraternity.

It’s all rubbish of course – propaganda to feed paranoia and build superstition for a power-hungry church. A topic I tried to address with my song Green and Grey.

But the Sabbat for modern Witches and Wiccans is a real thing. So I wanted to write a song that held within it that ecstasy of the union with Nature, the wildness of Dionysus, the drums beneath the moon, the roaring fire, the chanting, dancing – If you’ve been there, you know.

But you can keep your Devil, I’ll dance with Pan!!

VERSE 1

The day is done I turn my gaze towards the setting sun,

I taste the incense on the air, I hear the sound of drums,

The chill of the evening descends.

All day long I’ve been working hard for the man,

But now’s the time to ditch this skin and be who I am,

Some people just don’t understand,

You can keep your Devil I’ll dance with Pan!

Chorus:

For I will fly free,

On the wings of ecstasy,

And I will dance free,

To the music of Faerie.

Imbolc, Beltane,

Lughnasadh and Samhain,

Equinox and Solstice,

On hilltops in forests tonight,

To the Sabbat I will ride.

VERSE 2

I will dance with the Fearie Queen beneath the silver moon,

I will taste the honey mead and chant the Witch’s Rune,

My heart with the pulse of the land.

Witness now the union of chalice and of blade,

Of life and death and life again the union is made,

By power of land and of sea,

By power of will, so mote it be!

VERSE 3

The night is done the sun will rise on a brand new day,

And I along with millions go out to earn our pay,

People see just what they want to see.

But I have danced with the Faerie Queen, shared the mead of the sun.

I have worn the Oaken Crown before the Horned One,

And I’ll know it’s time to return,

When I see those Pagan fires burn!

Sabbat from Sabbat

Scarborough Faire is an amazing song. Such a wonderful melody and lyric that tells of all of the impossible tasks a human woman would need to achieve to be with a man from Elfland.

But I began to wonder…

These wonderful folk songs have been left us by anonymous writers from years ago and have been sung ever since. But is there another story behind Scarborough Faire? What about that songwriter from years ago? What inspired them to write such a song?

So I thought I would tell that story. Hope you like it!

Iron from Stone
Verse 1
As I rode out one morning,
Just as the day was dawning,
I gave my usual greeting to the Sun.
To seek my inspiration
I knew my destination
A standing stone down where the river runs.
Seeing no one else in sight
I sat down to write
But I was not alone
The Sun a little colder
A hand upon my shoulder
A shadow fell across the ancient stone.

Verse 2
He asked what I was writing
It sounded so inviting
I said I just tell stories with song.
The melody compelling
Said he had a tale worth telling
And promised that it wouldn’t take too long
He never would forget
How his true love he met
At a county faire
Of land by the sea
A Cambric shirt with no seams
And of a life that they would never share.

Verse 3
He thought they’d be together
To live their lives forever
But realised that he would soon be gone
Behind doors that were closing
From the will we were imposing
On the land we depend upon.
Their story will be sung
For many years to come
But we reap what we have sown
Two broken hearts
Two worlds torn apart
From the day we made iron from stone.

Iron From Stone from Sabbat

The Old Bearded Man stands crooked in the fields.

Born at the time of the Winter Solstice he has felt love, and has been loved. Now his beloved stands before him, the razor-edge of her sickle catching the light of the Summer Sun. They stand like this for some time – remembering their Journey together – but this happens every year, and they both know what lay ahead. Maybe a life well-lived can be easier to surrender? I don’t know, but the heads of John Barleycorn bow and are tossed in the Summer breeze. Returning to face the earth as if asking to come home once more.

This moment is the culmination of the Journey. From death will come life. Without death life cannot continue.

On a nearby hill a circle of people sing.

“There were three men, came out of the west, their fortunes for to try…”

One last look at her face. They will see each other again that is for sure. She kisses his eyes. The sickle arcs. The Old Man falls.

“They hired men with scythes so sharp, to cut him off at the knee…”

The last sheaf remains. The Spirit of the Fields held ready, to stay through the coming Autumn and Winter, and to return in Spring.

Heavy feet fall upon the echoing halls of the Otherworld. The King of Annwn takes his place upon the Dark Throne.

Beside him the Lady’s Throne lay empty, waiting for the Crows’ call, and the dark of Winter to descend.

The Old Bearded Man - Spoken Word

In 2010 members of the Anderida Grove gathered to record the sacred Druid Awen chant (which means 'Flowing Spirit', or 'Divine Inspiration'). I later added drones, drums, bells, gongs and other percussion to create this hour-long soundtrack to be used for Inner Journeying. 

Thanks goes to the members of the Anderida Grove that added their voices to this magical soundscape. We've had it for many years and have been asked for it often. So here it is for you to use in your practice.

It is meant to accompany inner journeying and meditation, so please don't listen to it while you're driving!

The Awen Journey - Damh the Bard/Anderida Grove

A beautiful moment from a wonderful recent gig. Scarborough Faire, live at the Victoria, Swindon, just a few weeks ago. The soundman recorded the whole gig, so I'm wondering what to do with it. But here is a song from that night. Enjoy!

Scarborough Faire - Damh The Bard Live At The Vic, Swindon

From Y Mabinogi - The First Branch

Pwyll invites some of his warriors to walk with him, to the top of a hill nearby called Gorsedd Arberth. It is said that if a nobleman sits upon the hill one of two things will happen – either he will suffer wounds or blows, or he will see a wonder. Will a wonder show itself?

Won’t you come and walk with me,

(On these hills these hollow hills)

Such a wonder there to see,

(So the story goes)

Neath the green and different skies,

(In these hills these hollow hills)

Is where the land of Faerie lies,

(So the story goes)


All is quiet, all is still, take a seat upon this hill,

The Eye of Bel is closing soon,

In evening’s twilight you sit down, upon this sacred hollow mound,

To receive a wonder or a wound.


From the day that you were born, and when you heard the hunter’s horn,

Is this freewill or destiny?

The Grey Folk smiling it is done, the spell is cast it has begun,

And such a wonder you will see,


And as that day back in the Glen, the air is still and silent when,

A vision from across the field,

The Gates of Annwn open wide, a Lady on a horse astride,

And now the prophecy’s revealed.

Y Mabinogi - The First Branch

26/9/2017

These Hollow Hills - Y Mabinogi - The First Branch

This is a piece of meditation music I created for Sacred Nature - Meditations For Health & Healing With The Golden Mean by Philip Carr-Gomm. It was a very different experience recording this piece, and I have to say it was hard to focus as I kept finding myself drifting off into some other place. It's how I knew the music would work for its intended purpose. So I recommend you listen through headphones, in a peaceful place, close your eyes, and dream into the Willow. Enjoy!!

Willow Dream - Damh the Bard

From Y Mabinogi - The Second Branch

As soon as we began the feast three birds came. We had to gaze far out to see to catch sight of them, yet their song was clear and true. As if they were in the court with us. Their song was the most beautiful sound we had ever heard. All other birdsong was harsh when compared theirs. The peak of each wave on the ocean shone white in the sunlight as if a million white horses galloped towards the shore. Then I knew. These were my Mother’s birds. The Birds of Rhiannon had arrived.
 
Verse 1
Life it can,
Feel just like falling sand,
From my open hand,
I let it fall.
Then on the wing,
Three birds begin to sing,
And white horses bring,
Their song to shore.
I hear your voice over the sea,
Mother take this pain from me!
 
Chorus
Comfort me,
Make us strong,
Hear the hope within the Birds of Rhiannon’s song,
Now I see,
All along,
The ocean your white horses ride upon,
Bring Birds of Rhiannon’s song.
 
Verse 2 – Rhiannon
I am here,
There’s nothing more to fear,
I’ll catch your falling tears,
In the sea.
So hear my song,
And may your heart be strong,
May all your pain be gone,
My son be free.
Wherever you go, whate’er you do,
I am always there with you.
 
Verse 3
The sky blood red,
Your birds have always led,
Guide the souls of the dead,
To Western Lands,
Neath the setting sun
Branwen walks with her son,
There with Efnyssien,
Hand in hand.
And every soul lost in the war,
Hear waves break upon another shore.

Y Mabinogi - The Second Branch

The Birds of Rhiannon - Y Mabinogi - The Second Branch

From Y Mabinogi - The Third Branch

And so we made our way to Dyfed. With us travelled the 5 other survivors of the war. As we rode, and when we made camp, the young Bard Taliesin sang the songs of the land, of hill, of valley, of lake and mountain stream. He told the tales of the Old People, the songs of standing stone and sacred mound, and the time passed as sure as night follows day. 
 
Verse 1
There was a time I was sure,
I might see my home nevermore,
The blood and the tears of the war,
Would last forever.
Our King gazes over the sea,
Two blessed ravens fly high and fly free,
And I pray that I’ll always be,
Here forever.
 
Bridge
Where high water falls into valleys below,
And Merlin’s great mountains are painted with snow.
The circles of stones whisper stories of long ago.
 
Chorus
For if ever I may roam,
From the Stones and Bones of Albion,
The land and sea my home,
My heart will always remain.
How I need to hear the songs,
From the Stones and Bones of Albion,
This is where my soul belongs,
The Shining Brow singing from every tree,
The birds, the beasts, 
Sing the Stones and Bones of Albion.
 
Verse 2
Hear as Song of the Wind,
Joins with the voice of the Bard as he sings,
Of magic and cauldrons and Kings,
Forever,
Sing of the Wisdom of trees,
How the Druids told all of their Lore to the bees,
Reflected in all that he sees,
Forever.
 
Bridge
As the high water falls into valleys below,
And Merlin’s great mountains are painted with snow.
The circles of stones whisper stories of long ago.
 
Verse 3
What are these visions I see,
Of oak, of broom, of meadowsweet,
Of eyes that yearn to be free,
Forever,
Two dragons take to the wing,
A sword is drawn from a stone he sings,
A boy born to be King,
Forever.

Y Mabinogi - The Third Branch

The Stones and Bones of Albion - Y Mabinogi - The Third Branch

Cold and bright the solstice dawn breaks through the heol-stone gate,
Time out of mind the stones have stood marking the zenith and the nadir of the sun’s journey across the sky.
Cut by our ancient hands, with stone on stone they were shaped and pulled from the earth’s embrace,
Mile on mile moved and with magic raised upon this sacred land.
And at this time of the Solstice,
The Holly King waits within the Stones.
He waits in darkness, and stillness,
For the coming of the dawn,
The rising of the Sun,
And the footsteps of his Oaken-leafed brother.
Whilst the Awen……is sung.

Brother, what is your name?

To which the Oak King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I am Hafgan, Lord of the Waxing Year,
I am the King of Oak,
I bring bud to leaf,
Bring life to the Earth,
I banish the cold of Winter,
And welcome the warmth of Spring,
And you my brother, what is your name?

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I am Arawn, Lord of the Waning Year,
I am the King of Holly,
I strip bare your leaf-ridden trees,
I bring darkness to this land,
……and peace,
I banish the warmth of Summer
And welcome the iciness of Winter.
Brother, where do you come from?

To which the Oak King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I come from Annwn, the Otherworld.
And at the time of your greatest power I am born into this world of Abred,
Called by the singing of the Birds of Rhiannon,
The warmth of my breath, and my seed, awakens the life within my Queen,
And the land is bathed in the beauty of our love,
Whilst Annwn is ruled by Winter and Ice,
So Abred blossoms, caressed by the heat of my gazing eye.
And you my brother, where do you come from?

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I come from Annwn, the Otherworld,
And at the time of your greatest power I am born into this world of Abred,
I ride on Rhiannon’s horse to claim my throne,
Laughing with the Wild Hunt I ride through the night sky,
My cold breath will make way for the coming of the Cailleach,
And the land will be bathed in the beauty of ice and darkness,
Whilst Annwn blossoms, in your heat,
So Abred will have peace, reflection, and renewal,
Guarded by Orion of the Silver Belt.
Brother, what art do you perform?

To which the Oak King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I lift the saddened heart,
Bring life to death,
Shape the hidden green,
Give flight to birds and insects,
My Bards sing upon their wing,
My orchestra plays music within the wind,
Life returns, and in that space where thought becomes dream,
Lovers walk upon the warm earth,
And lay under the stars, and the Sun, together.
And you my Brother, what art do you perform?

To which the Holly King replies,
Not hard to answer!
I give space to thought,
Bring renewal from death,
Bring rest to life, transformation to your crown of green,
I light the inner fire, and the hearth,
And quicken the heart of the beast,
My Bards are the stillness of the winter sky,
The reflection on the water,
The tears of the ice,
Life returns to that place where dreams are forgathered,
Lovers lie before the flickering fires in their homes,
And new life is nourished as my Lady strips bare the branches,
And lays her cloak across the land.
And I am here my Brother, to take my crown.

Then take this crown, but know this –
Even though you begin your rule,
My heat will grow,
My fire will ripen the fruit,
Turn the fields from green to gold,
And warm the oceans.
For although you take the power of light.
I retain the power of heat,
Until your Lady joins you,
At Samhain.

Colloquy of the Oak and Holly King

Damh the Bard – is a modern-day Bard whose spirituality and love of folk tradition is expressed
through his music, storytelling and poetry. Drawing on the Bardic tradition, his performances are both entertaining and educational, speaking directly to the heart, and never without a good splash of humour.

With seven outstanding albums, and singing and speaking engagements all over the world, Damh has become one of the most popular contemporary pagan musicians – a musical storyteller who works within the world of myth: where the Faerie really do dance on Midsummer’s Eve, where the trees talk, and the Hollow Hills take you into the realms of Annwn, where the Goddess rides her horse, guiding you to magic, and the Horned God of old calls to you from the shadows of the Greenwood.

Along with his musical concerts, Damh has also given talks, run workshops and participated in panel discussions at conferences and camps in the UK, Europe, Australia, Canada and the USA, with his favourite topics including Druidry, Awen and the creative quest, magick, treelore, and Arthurian lore.

Damh is the current Pendragon of the Order of Bards, Ovates and Druids, and hosts their monthly podcast, DruidCast.

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