---

Snow, it falls

The his they're sagging from its weight

Wood, we fell

Preparations for the coming days

The feasts we make merry with

our song

The time of year when

daylights gone

Our fire burning, sip your spiced

ale into the the night

Hold your chalice tight

The Coming Tide of Yule

May we toast to the nearing age

Of good fortuned and peaceful days

Spirits, adrift

The hunt, ride in the sky so clear

Kin that we've lost, known to us

this sacred time of year

A march of gods and ghost alike

The Coming Tide of Yule

May we toast to the rising age

Of good fortune and peaceful days

Tracks from the deer they disappear

New path made by the winter king

Adorned with holly crown and spear

The demons flee, his bell it rings

The pine and sage it burns

As we trod deeper into the glowing light

The log, flames out

Songs, they fade from memory

The frost its strings, till the green man,

he comes again