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Sacrifice
Young Johnny, he was new to the craft.
Thought he had stumbled upon an exciting path.
He would impress his friends by being a warlock.
Came across people who were mostly talking bollocks!
Went to a conference run by the fed's,
Bought some nice jewellery for his feet his arms his legs hios head.
Went to a talk by a man called Nick Ford.
Was so impressed with the truth of it all
Nick said "You'd thank your friends for washing your car for you"
"Don't you think you should thank you god and your Goddess for what they do?"
No matter what path you're on, what faith you are devising,
Keep well, keep happy, keep sacrificing.
He knew he didn't have to kill his neighbour's cat.
Or even kill his neighbour, for all that!
A bit of incense, some beer and some wine.
Al little bit of chocolate, that would do just firn.
One day he had to make a sacrifice, talked to his oddess on a delicate night.
Mixed up some salsa and tortilla as directed.
Slammed in his athame. Most effective!
That salsa flew through the air just like blood.
(Only kind of chunkier. And nicer with a range of other dips).
Anne was a shaman in training. Most of her lessons were about misbehaving.
She used her drum to forge a groove.
Enjoyed studying psychotropic food.
Had to make a sacrifice to her Gods. Got inspiration walking past a toy shop.
Her sacrifice a gift to society.
She tore out the beating heart of a Furby.
Oh the cries as that Firbee died.
I'd have paid good money to see it's fading eyes.
Anton LeVay said nature leaves nothing to waste.
Everything has a purpose.
So when frustrated by useless people Use them as target practice for your curses.
Peter, he was politically correct.
Had a heart to follow a heathen path.
He went to a camp, saw their magical rites.
Saw their willy in the air, they were all having a laugh.
He was struck by the beuty of those heathen women, by the bearded manliness of those heathen blokes.
Now he tears red meat apart with his fingers and knows far to many inappropriate jokes.
Has to make an offering for his Gods to see.
Regularly sacrifices his sobriety.
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Christian Fundies
It was late in the day when Star Child came home
From a hard day of signing on, and oh
He was pagan and weird,
Had a little goaty beard.
And he hated the Christian Fundies oh!
IN his garden his organic herbs did grow.
He walked pastthem tyo his door and oh
To his bird he did say
"My bus it was delayed."
"It was probably then Christian Fundies oh"
But there on the floor was a note by the door
Written by his girlie oh.
"Alpha Course last night. I have seen the light
I'm off with the Christian Fundies oh."
Well he saddled up his mountain bike,
For he did respect the Oz(y)one.
Got some Tarot cards out, shuffled them about.
Then scryed for the Christian Fundies oh.
By the cycle paths and the bridleways he came across a town and oh
By a silver birch saw a happy clappy church.
And there he spotted his girlie oh.
"Oh what makes you leave your organic herbs?
Your bloke? And your books by the Farrars oh?"
"Not to mention your PF subscription!"
"All for the Christian Fundies oh?"
And she said..
"What care I for my organic herbs when the frozen ones are cheaper oh"
"Over night I have built
A shed load of guilt"
"I'm staying with the Christian Fundies oh"
Then she said "As for you! You will burn in hell!"
"Where the horned one will great you oh!"
He said "That's great!"
"He's my mate"
"Sod you, and your Christian Fundies oh!"
"I'll find me a nice Pagan Lass
At the Broomstick Rally down Brighton oh"
"We'll drink shed loads of beer and stay very very clear
Of you, and the Christian Fundies oh"
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Wacky Wicca
Walk into the bookshop, what do I see?
A thousand books on spirituality.
Got to find a path that's right for me.
Got to find a way to spend a bit of money!!
They've got books that tell me how to be a shaman,
A druid or even a high magician.
Books that tell me all beliefs are the same
And books that tell me how the world was begun.
Books that tell me how to astral travel,
how to read my dreams in the middle of the night.
Books that tell me how to live forever
How to be at one with the eternal light!
Smell of incense wafting through
Whale music in the air
Pagan bookshop trying to fleece me
Whilst telling me that they really do care.
(They're selling me)
Wacky wicca
Wacky wacky wicca gonner make somebody richer
Ohh yeah, wacky wicca gonner sell.
Wacky wicca gonner ring some accountants spiritual bell.
Gardenarian wicca, Alexandrian wicca
Guardinarian wicca, which is both of the above.
Seax wicca, which doesn't really count
Although it's based on perfect love and perfect trust.
Teenage wicca, old crone wicca
Wicca for the garden, wicca for the home
Crystal, faery bull shit wicca
Wicca for the coven or when you are alone.
A land of advice and guidance,
A breeding ground for guru's and seers.
A mess of evolving "traditions"
Some go back maybe even two whole years!
(Chorus)
What ever happened to a witch evolving her own craft?
Local knowledge and traditional lore?
Where did all this christo wicca bull shit come from?
When did beautiful wicca become such a bore?
What ever happened to finding your own spell?
Hearing the mysteries through candle light?
What ever happened to the love affair with the Goddess?
Being alone with Pan in the woods in the middle of the night?
Good people driven away.
Five third degree wiccans created every day.
"Wicca" is an abused term
Because now it's not magic, but jewellery that maketh the man!
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Homework Song
Sent a letter off the other day.
Learning bardic skills the OBOD way.
Had to see if I'd done enough to do some Ovate stuff.
Had to write some things and such. Didn't think it would matter much.
Though they would just rubber stamp me through.
Like so many other courses do.
Did the lessons they sent to me.
Meditated peacefully under a tree.
Read some poems. Wrote some songs.
Even studied the Mabiogion.
Came to do my homework, life was hard
Things were moving just a little bit fast
Didn't give it as much time as I should.
Don't think my home work was very good.
I failed my homework!
My Bardic training home work!
I failed my home work because I didn't try too hard.
Thought I knew it all, thought I would be a hit.
But my tutor told me politely, patiently,
And rather poeticly. My homework was shit.
Should have told her my home work was cool,
Good enough to get me through.
I realised as home I drove I'd left my homework in the grove.
Maybe I should have tried a bribe. Might have seemed a little bit snide.
Might have got a better mark if I'd bought her
A shiny copy of the Mort d'Arthur
I failed my homework.
My Bardic training homework.
I failed my homework, I need healing arts to get me through.
Thought I could be an Ovate. Evene said so on the website.
But my home work wasn't filled with the spirit of the Awen, the beuty of the stars or the trees at night. It was just plain shite.
The funny thing is I know lots of stories.
Like the one about the nut filled intelligent fish from Ireland
I know the story about Cerridwen's pot.
About how she and that little geezer turned into animals a lot.
They sort of chased each other round and turned into animals quite a bit.
Maybe I should try more hard if I'm ever going to be a bard.
Have to spend a little more time making sure that my songs are in tune.
Have to spend some time round the fire with people who really are
Inspired, inspiring, who make me laugh
From the dusks to the dawns, and back again.
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Julian's Song
One more bottle of wine
One more drink by the fire side.
One more night, one more time
Trying to make each other laugh 'till the morning.
Then I'll be ready for goodbye.
One more song, one more laugh,
One more night talking about things that don't really matter.
Then I'll be ready for goodbye.
Take these tears from my eyes, 'cos they don't really suit me.
I don't want to cry whilst your memories alive.
It's not the way it should be.
Some say take your time, I say
Hurry back soon
Now that I know I really miss you, now that I know that I never really knew you.
And how much it would have been nice too.
Take these tears from my eyes as I raise a glass to you
I don't want to cry when I think about the things that we never got round to.
As we sit by the fire I can feel you near,
Here in our circle, supping on another can of beer.
I know you're around long as we want you here.
And I will party on, as I'm sure you have done
Sung a few songs now and then raised a glass to your name
'Cos I know it's merry meet, merry part and merry meet again.
I'll have these tears in my eyes whenever I need them.
I tell you my friend I will cry whenever I want to cry again.
Next time you're passing on by drop in for a bottle of wine.
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Drinking Times
In the cool of the evening they used to gather
At any old tavern that would sell a decent beer.
At the times appointed by the pay check the giro,
Or for some, by their mum.
Left of centre often stood an arsehole,
Spouting total bollocks to anyone who hears.
The drinking times, of the drinking pagans.
Celebrating love and life, but mostly drinking beer.
Ginger, scary, sporty, baby posh, Bob Cat.
There were those who came to power to suit their egos'
And there were those who appeared on the tele' who thought they knew the lot.
And there were those who at Stonehenge who greeted up the sun,
And those who walked through the woodlands and worked with what they got.
And there were those who sough to worship 'cos it made them look groovy
And those who sought to worship by knowing lots of spells.
And those who sought to celebrate love life and laughter
By dancing and by singing.
Oh yes! And by drinking beer as well.
Two pints of lager and a packet of crisps please.
Now the Earth, she is a witch.
But not a bloody Wiccan!
Sometimes she's a druid, a shaman, many other things as well.
She likes wine libations. They help her to party.
And bearing this in mind, libate tortilla chips as well.
Times move on, and so do the drinking pagans,
Celebrating love and life with laughter and good cheer.
I wish you success. I wish you much happiness.
But most of all I wish you would go and get me another beer.
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Hey Ho
I see you standing there, doing your New Age shopping in Christian healing underwear.
In the shop with the silly name. Looking to buy pictures of dolphins
In badly painted frames.
You're a good person, you're a vegetarian.
Your last living soul on this Earth
Who really believes in the law of three-fold return.
You've got a new spirituality,
You and your mates you get together on Thursdays at half past three.
Each session costs you seven pounds and takes you one step closer to the happy hunting grounds.
You've bought all the shakers, you've bought all the drums, you know all the chants.
You're going to pay some extra money to learn the sacred and ancient ritual dance
And I say, Hey Ho, don't you know
You can get all the cubins you need mail order, go on! Off you go!
Spiritual development guaranteed
Add a little money for postage and packing. A little more for VAT.
You are taught by an APPLE! Red skin on the outside
He's got white flesh underneath.
Your ancestors raped their women and their land, now you
You pay good money to rape their beliefs.
Well. Hey Ho!
(Choose paganism)
Choose paganism
Choose a path
Choose a sub-genre
Choose a fucking big robe
Choose pentagram jewellery, crystal tipped wands and a Hinchcliffe athame
Choose some books
Choose a range of deities and demi-gods to follow
Choose a part of paganism you really dislike.
Choose a persona to have
Choose your friends
Choose rituals and path workings to follow
Choose membership of guilds, or orders, or to really make your mark the Pagan Federation.
Choose sitting in a pagan pub moot
Listening to mind numbing, spirit sapping bores pouring bollocks into your ears
Choose loosing faith in the whole pagan community
Desperate to find some solace in your beliefs
Nothing more than a disillusioned witch, druid or whatever title it was that used to mean so much to.
Choose your future,
Choose paganism
Hey Ho cont...
You've got a new crystal, it looks so very fine
It's so big and purple it could hold rain fall, moon light and sunshine.
You say it helps you to relax, that it releases your spiritual potential to the max
And you say it helps you to feel that you're at one with the land.
You've got her healing power to hand.
It's gonner bring you good luck each and every day.
Least that's what the bloke said in the shop where you did pay
But I say Hey Ho
Did they not tell you about the explosion which a hole in her womb did blow?
Or the shit wages for the poor to bring that purple lump of crytal to your door?
Did they not tell you about the burning toxins that cleaned up tat there piece on your hearth?
Congratulations! You've paid very good money
For a souvenir of the rape of the Earth.
Well. Hey Ho!
You're worth much more than the bullshit
They've got piled up high on their shelves.
So much more than their profiteering lies.
Just take a good look at your self.
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Janet, Oh Janet!
Some come to this path to fulfil a destiny,
Some come here quite by accident, as happened to me.
The world called to me, lovingly.
I was taken by the mysteries win the wind, the fire, the seas and the trees.
My search took me to the printed word,
With mysteries and histories that some would find absurd.
When I saw those books with her performing quite skyclad
A voice within my soul said "That religion can't be bad!"
Janet, oh Janet your image should be carved in marble stone.
Placed in Trafalgar Square for all to behold.
Janet, oh Janet I would keep that statue clean
With my wand in my hand I would keep you pigeon free.
So I practised and I studied, and I made some great new friends
Who helped me celebrate the Earth, an d all her yearly trends.
Then I bought some more books with pictures of you in
Meditated, contemplated an unoriginal sin.
Janet, Oh Janet your portrait should be hung for all to see.
Certainly the Tate, maybe the National Gallery.
Janet, oh Janet in my life that picture would play a part,
Wall paper on my phone, my computer and my heart.
But Janet! Oh Janet! Those pictures filled me with fear.
What if I got to a coven and found you there?
Me skyclad to the Moon and the Sun
No alter could hide how "spiritual" I'd become.
I still turn those books every now and then
It feels like I'm coming across an old friend.
Those eyes I could drown in, a candle lights your face
Gives me a glow in a very special place.
Janet, oh Janet you should be on the cover of a magazine.
Certainly Vogue, maybe even Harpers and Queen.
And Janet I must thank you and your many lovely curve
For bringing me to the Goddess I was always meant to serve
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