There’s a voice at the edge of the greenwood,

calling out to me

It tells the tales

dissolved in time and mystery

Since I was a child

the greenwood felt like home to me

Born again in the roots of the great world tree

Born again in the roots of the great world tree

The eagle looks down, on the old world tree,

To the roots, and the serpent, and the Maidens three.

And down deeper still, enchanted Norns wait,

For connection and wisdom, from the well-spring of fate.

Stand supreme, the old world tree,

Dance the maypole dance,

And celebrate the realms of three.

For nothing’s left to chance,

For we are one, and one is whole,

A woven tapestry,

Such is the wisdom of the ash,

within the great world tree.

The ancient god Odin, hung from this tree,

To gain hidden knowledge, of the runes’ mystery.

With branches in heaven, and roots down in hell,

Earth at the centre, three stories to tell.

Stand supreme, the old world tree,

Dance the maypole dance,

And celebrate the realms of three.

For nothing’s left to chance,

For we are one, and one is whole,

A woven tapestry,

Such is the wisdom of the ash,

within the great world tree.

This tree of enchantment, Gwydion held dear.

Past, present, and future, all realms become clear.

Connecting the gods, the dead and mankind,

Ash leaves by my pillow, ancestors I’ll find.

There’s a voice at the edge of the greenwood,

calling out to me

It tells the tales

dissolved in time and mystery

Since I was a child

the greenwood felt like home to me

Born again in the roots of the great world tree

Born again in the roots of the great world tree