#llangwener

[howlsofannwn]

Conspiring, the river and the singing moon.

[howlsofannwn]

Tread not the bluebell

Take care you not bend a single stem

For the May Mother dotes on her blooms

She rises up in fiercest wrath

And she knows every door to dreams

[howlsofannwn]

She is not unkind to those who long for rest. The mountains, the moorlands, the ancient heath, she cradles all who dream beneath the vaulting sky.

[howlsofannwn]

Poor Sir James, Sweet Sir James

Stay and play with us another game

None walk the old road at night

We speak not in sport, we speak not in spite

For none walk the old road at night

The wind cannot answer, the earth will not weep

Our river is hungry, and our dead do not sleep

- from 'Poor James Courtney', local pub ballad