This is our time to remember,
By hearth-fire and welcome of bread,
So we gather and stand upon red leaves,
With deep memory and love for our dead.
 
Under the chill of winter’s breath,
We give thanks to what was before.
Like the dormant life of the magical seed,
We await the springtime once more.
 
So lift high the lanterns living light,
The dark part of the year,
And sing our songs and celebrate,
For those who brought us here
 
This ancient story of decay,
This Earth on which we stand,
Of mud and stone, And blood and bone,
So sacred, be the land.
 
Green energy withdrawn,
 down in dark Earth,
Down to the source and the core,
And the gusts of the wind, Turn the wheel of this year,
Soon the lambs shake their tails once more.
 
So lift high the lanterns living light,
The dark part of the year,
And sing our songs and celebrate,
For those who brought us here.
 
We stand at the threshold between life and death,
The otherworld mists start to clear,
And in the flickering shadows, born of the fire,
We see our ancestors appear.