the festival began at dusk
amidst the rings of fairy dust
beating paths the fair and mild
and joyous came from miles and miles
to shine like flaming stars on earth
and worship now the sacred birth
of Gloria the Queen of Mirth
a dance of joy and equine song
no worry now the Green Man’s gone
the songs grew wild they gathered close
they nailed father to the post
and with his blood they drank a toast
from raven black that held his gaze
the ritual had advanced a stage
he saw just then a craven goat
before the dancers slit his throat
no time left now it soon gave birth
to Gloria the Queen or Mirth