Memories of apple blossoms, now the fruit is bright and red; Rose-Red the lips of the mother, a crown of stars around her head. Rose-Red the moon’s daughter, taste the fruit when it’s dark and red; the winged heart of the apple-mother, a crescent moon upon her head.
Black the mane of the scarlet priestess, she holds the child to her breast; round and round the blackthorn tree, her path of shadow is bright and blessed. Rose-Red the moon’s daughter, at her feet the blessed bow; the winged heart of the apple-mother, a crescent moon upon her brow.
Scrye the vision in the black night water, the twilight fruits the seasons keep; the wayfarer of the river, when the waters are dark and deep. Rose-Red the moon’s daughter, taste the fruit when it’s dark and red; the winged heart of the apple-mother, a crescent moon upon her head.