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They
came to my hut in the middle of the night
And took me away in chains.
They kicked me and heaped me with foul abuse
I thought they were insane.
Now I'm not much one for the church
My temple's 'neath the moon.
Makin' love in the fields to grow the crops
And dance to the Witch's Rune.
Chorus:
Face
the fire!
Face the fire!
You know that death's no end.
Face the fire!
Embrace the fire!
Beyond we'll meet again.
Face the fire!
Face the fire!
You know that without pain . . .
Face the fire!
Embrace the fire!
The world will never change
They broke my cauldron and my knife
Said I'd used it to kill a child.
And then they throttled my old grey cat.
That really drove me wild.
They searched my body for Devil's marks
Near drowned me in the well.
If I were won't to relive that night
Such horrors could I tell.
They said I had bewitched the sheep
And that I was Satan's bride.
But I never gave confession or name
Through all the pain they tried.
They crushed my hands and whipped my feet
Till every movement stung.
And when I vowed my innocence
They cut away my tongue.
Chorus
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Now
in the town, my herbal lore
Had saved many a life.
Had I not cured her of the augue
The judge would have no wife.
Yet as I looked around the court
At all who owed their lives to me
Naught but laughter, hate and fear
And malice did I see.
They
danced about the old town square
Piling the faggots high.
From here I could see the other fires
Make orange the midnight sky.
They bound me and dragged me through the streets
And placed me on the pyre.
But my coven's poison got to me . . .
I died before the fire.
Chorus
Now
times have changed, and I am free
To cry Lord and Lady's names aloud.
I dance and sing beneath the moon
And wear my pentacle proud.
And as I look back at the past
At all the horror done,
I know that it was worth it all
For the brand new world we've won.
Chorus
But even through my tearful joy
I can hear Earthmother's pain
Her hair is torn and tangled with trash.
His breath, an acid rain.
The people, they still talk with rage
Till they've lost the will to feel.
And those in power grow rich as they always do
With each turning of the wheel.
About
me, they let people starve
And build machines of war.
And strip the land till Her fertile womb
Is but an open sore.
And so I march through the streets,
My athame a fountain pen.
To heal the World, to heal the Sky
I would face the fires again.
Chorus
--
Lionrhod June 1994
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