BURNING TIMES
The songs are sung to rouse our anger
Of martyred witches gone to the fire
But what is served by righteous singing
When all we do is stew in our ire?
Nine million dead in four
hundred years
More in that time simply
died of disease.
Why do we dwell on long-passed
dead
When we are alive in times
like these?
cho1: Rise up, Witches, throw off your masks
And cease crying guilt for
ancient crimes;
Earth and all her children
need us,
For all face now the Burning
Times.
In the face of that hostile power,
How did the old knowledge stay alive?
How do we have a Craft to practise?
Our ancestors knew how to fight and survive!
How do we honour our blessed
dead?
Slavery threatens all but
the few!
We must teach their cunning
ways;
Everyone needs the skills
they knew.
cho: Rise up, Witches, gather your strength,
And let your power spread
and climb;
Earth and all her children
need us,
For all face now the Burning
Times.
I'll not cast off science's works
Witches all forces to Will can bend.
I'll not accuse, for war and waste,
Some patriarchy of faceless Men.
Men do not cast the only
votes;
Women alone do not demonstrate.
Rather than shut out half
the race,
Who, if not we, will change
that state?
(cho)
I will not blame a Father's Church --
Blame and guilt are Their tools, not mine.
And even in the shuls and churches
Allies there will I seek and find!
I will not answer hate with
fear;
Nor with a smug, cheek-turning
love;
I will not answer hate with
rage;
By strength alone will I
not be moved!
(cho)
I will not hide in my sacred grove --
The factories and cities yet ring me about.
I will not climb my ivory tower --
The real world exists though I shut it out.
I will not work for Church
nor State
Who serve themselves while
they serve us lies.
Nor only for my Witchen
kin
But for the family of all
alive!
(cho)
So if rebellion means to fight
A State lost sight of why it was built,
If heresy's to reject a Church
That rules with force or fear or guilt,
Then let us all be rebels
proud,
And shameless heretics by
creed!
A tyrant's hand subjects
the Earth
More heretic rebels are
what She needs!
(cho)
copyright 1988, Leigh Ann Hussey