Come, I will sing it in your ear
Your dancing days are come
All the feeling you hold dear
Will lift your spirit some
And I will sing you merrily
Into my ring of dooms
And I will twine into your hair
A wreath of maiden blooms
As Maiden grows to Mother
And Mother into Crone
Dance, My darling daughter
Beneath My rounded Moon.
Your dancing days are come
All the feeling you hold dear
Will lift your spirit some
And I will sing you merrily
Into my ring of dooms
And I will twine into your hair
A wreath of maiden blooms
As Maiden grows to Mother
And Mother into Crone
Dance, My darling daughter
Beneath My rounded Moon.