Hail to the Corn King!
Hail to the Corn King, the harvest is home,
The sun loosing strength begins its decline,
Days become shorter, we start to retreat,
Preparing for winter, it is time to reflect,
On missions accomplished, and projects complete,
On where we are going, as the dark gains in strength,
Wax turns to wane and the year becomes old,
The greens on the landscape have now turned to gold.
Ripe for the picking the grain in the field,
Little John Barleycorn must fall to the sword!
Bread for our bellies, Beer for our feast,
Lugh the sun god must give all he has,
The grain it will feed us, the seed is our hope,
Barren the fields, during winters long sleep,
Deep in the mother, the seed safely kept.
In the late summers breeze John dances no more,
We bid him farewell as he journeys below,
Back to the earth from where he first came,
Deep in the underworld they prepare for rebirth.
The departed sun God, and the seed in the earth.
Goddess must mourn the loss of her love,
But the wheel it will turn as she becomes crone,
Wise with the year, her work almost done,
Soon we shall reap the gifts of her love,
As fruit, seed and herb we pick for our stores,
They will see us through winter, till the sun is reborn.
But today we raise glasses to John Barleycorn,
With thanks for the gifts of his bright golden grain,
Hail to the corn King, for the harvest is home!