Vindos Vindos Vindos
by the Winter Wind
I call to You
Vindos Vindos Vindos
Father of Night
oh hear my cry
Vindos Vindos Vindos
in the darkness
make me one with You
Vindos Vindos Vindos
heal my wounds
on this dark night
Audio HERE
*A chant to Vindos for all those in need of healing over the dark moon and winter solstice period.
Oh Gatherer of Souls
the autumn leaves begin to fall.
All the trees look behind them
as they hear Your call.
Oh Gwythyr ap Greidol
Your summer is done.
Oh lords of the world
your time is come.
Audio HERE.
Swaying white fields,
dancing white mist,
a mouse on each wheat ear –
around them tails twist.
Oh Grey King
You’ve haunted this land,
memories lost,
now You’ve returned.
Your poor hungry people
had nothing to eat
but now they’re well feasted
on white ears of wheat.
Oh Grey King
You’ve haunted this land,
memories lost,
now You’ve returned.
And tonight we will feast
on apples and mead,
You and Your mouse wife
in these bare fields of wheat.
Oh Grey King
You’ve haunted this land,
memories lost,
now You’ve returned.
CLICK HERE FOR AUDIO
I wrote this song for Gwyn ap Nudd to celebrate September which is known in Cornwall as Gwyngala ‘White Fields’ and in Wales as Mis Medi ‘the Reaping Month’. Here I equate Gwyn with Llwyd ap Cil Coed from the Third Branch of The Mabinogion, who sends His people as a plague of mice to eat the wheat fields with His wife as the ring-leader. Llwyd is likely to be the Welsh folkloric figure Brenin Llwyd ‘the Grey King’.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how the bees upon the lavender
are humming secret songs for You.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of sunflowers tall as Gwythyr’s warriors
turning from the sun towards You.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how the apples on Your sacred trees
are ripening like the full moon for You.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how the blackberries are glistening
darker than the dark moon for You.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how the hazelnuts are growing
in threes and fives and nines for You.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how the white fields sway and tremble
as a wind like a scythe passes through.
King of Annwn as You slumber
let me sing the world above for You –
of how, like Creiddylad, I am waiting
beneath the shadows of the yew.
Carry us star chariot
across the winter skies
Carry us star horses
on hooves of wind and snow and ice
Lead us star woman
with fingernails like crescent moons who guides
Guide us hounds of stars
on paws of wind and snow and ice
Riots across the North fed by misinformation in the aftermath of the tragic massacre of three little girls. The fiery energy of the Red Dragon perverted into nationalist attacks on asylum seekers and Muslims. The White Dragon, who always carries the label of ‘other’, fighting back.
I sing a song that was sung to calm the red and white dragons during the battles between the Britons and Romans, the Britons and Saxons, by the warrior-women, the prophets, who became known as Witches of Annwn.*
A song, in the Dog Days of Summer, that invokes the aid of our Husband and Winter King, Gwyn ap Nudd, against the fiery energies of His rival Gwythyr ap Greidol, Summer King, ally of Arthur, the first to sow the seeds of British nationalism by uniting the nation under ‘One King, One God, One Law.’
A song that transforms the dragons into monstrous animals, little pigs, two babes in a woman’s arms.
A song that coaxes them back to sleep in deep Annwn.
Sleep babes sleep
daddy’s gone a hunting
he’ll bring us snowy white hares
and ptarmigan; in his wolf furs
we’re so safe and warm.
Sleep babes sleep
daddy’s gone into the cold again
he’ll bring us a white bushy-tailed
snow fox; in his wolf furs
we’re so safe and warm.
Sleep babes sleep
daddy’s gone into the frost again
he’ll bring us the feathers of a snowy
white owl; in his wolf furs
we’re so safe and warm.
Sleep babes sleep
daddy’s gone into the snow again
he’ll bring us the last reindeer
of the North; in his wolf furs
we’re so safe and warm.
*This song was first published in my book Gatherer of Souls in a story called ‘The Purple-Cloaked Empire’ when it is sung by Wind Singer to calm the red and white dragons during the Roman invasions. It has a basis in the medieval Welsh story of Lludd and Llefelys wherein Lludd / Nudd calms the dragons to sleep. I believe the Witches of Annwn, as devotees of Gwyn ap Nudd and His father, had a supporting role.
**A quick note for clarity – whilst I am speaking about British nationalism being rooted in the Roman and Anglo Saxon invasions and the mythos of Arthur I am not drawing parallels between the Romans and Anglo-Saxons as invaders and the asylum seekers and Muslims who come in peace and are a welcome part of our British communities.
Easeful,
easeful the forest
Easeful,
easeful its mansions perfected
Where we grow
where we grow
where we grow
and decay no longer
Easeful,
easeful the forest
*A spell-song evoking the Forest of Annwn which I often use for journeying there inspired by ‘The Bird Song of Wayreth Forest’ from the Dragonlance Chronicles.
Sacred breeze a whisper on my eyelashes
Sacred breeze a stranger’s hand awakening me
Sacred breeze the hairs on my neck all rising
Sacred breeze the fair folk tugging on my sleeve
Sacred breeze the scent of flying horses
Sacred breeze the breath of my blessed deity
Sacred breeze the sound of living and dying
Sacred breeze without you not a wave in the sea
Sacred breeze filling my lungs with awen
Sacred breeze without you am empty
Sacred breeze I am grateful for your blessings
Sacred breeze without you I am nothing
Creiddylad arrives brings the morning.
She is here, She is here, She is here.
Creiddylad arrives brings the birdsong.
She is here, She is here, She is here.
Creiddylad arrives brings the flowers.
She is here, She is here, She is here.
A monastic chant for Creiddylad, a Brythonic Goddess of flowers and fertility, as Her presence is felt in the land again with Her arrival heralding the coming of spring.
This is a ‘paganised’ version of Lyke Wake Dirge – a North Yorkshire folk song that tells of the passage of the soul. Traditionally the last line of the refrain reads ‘And Christ receive thy saule’ and the journey leads to ‘Purgatory’s fires’. Here it is rewritten and sung for my patron God, Gwyn ap Nudd, a ruler of Annwn and guide of souls on Nos Galan Gaeaf when he rides with His hunt to gather the dead.
Lyke Wake Dirge
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
(Refrain:) — And He’ll receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last;
(Refrain:) — And He’ll receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
If hosen and shoon thou ne’er gav’st nane
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
From Whinny-muir when thou may’st pass,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
From Brig o’ Dread when thou may’st pass,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
To Annwn’s fire thou com’st at last;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest meat or drink,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
The fire sall never make thee shrink;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
If meat or drink thou ne’er gav’st nane,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
(Refrain:) —Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,
(Refrain:) —And He’ll receive thy saule (x2).
*This version was first sung by Nina George and my performance group Guests of the Earth at the launch of my third book, Gatherer of Souls, in 2018. I have been singing it this time every year since to aid the passage of souls.
The Sanctuary of Vindos 