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.
This is a devotional song for my patron God Gwyn ap Nudd. It began as an experiment in singing in trance whatever came into my mind in a monastic chant style linked with the repetition of the line ‘I bring all my devotion to you’. Slowly the verses Gwyn wanted me to sing coalesced. Hopefully this explains its misty dreamlike nature which I think fits with the meaning of His name ‘White son of Mist’.
White Son of Mist, mist-filled wanderer, Your hound haunts the cloud mountains where Your horse grazes on nothing…
…and I bring all my devotion to You…
Bull of Battle, undying warrior, Your sword parts the veil where carrion birds circle and the past unfurls…
… and I bring all my devotion to You…
Guide of Souls, gentle hunter, the graves lie open and the dead ride the storm of my soul…
… and I bring all my devotion to You…
King of Annwn, Your star shines brightly, I kneel before it at the end when silence rules…
… and I bring all my devotion to You
A mourning song for Gwyn
Dawn arrives yet You are gone.
The birds are singing yet You are gone.
The flowers are turning their petalled heads
towards the sun yet You are gone.
Your absence is like the spinning of the Void.
You are gone to its bottommost depths
with Your castle of cold stone.
You are gone but Your haunting
is everywhere with Your promise of return.
You died but You are not dead but only sleeping.
We share a heartbeat and a breath and every one
brings us a little closer together.
I remember this when
You are gone.
This is a gifted song that I have been singing for Gwyn at His altar in my morning and evening devotions since His death in His seasonal battle against Gwythyr on Calan Mai after which He sleeps over the summer months in His castle of cold stone. (At night I replace ‘dawn’ with ‘dusk’ and ‘towards’ with ‘from’).
This is the first time I have sung on video and I’ve only sung in public once before in a performance group. I was put off when a friend jestingly told me I ‘sing like a nun’ in the sense I am not rock ‘n’ roll enough. Well I am a nun now so I can sing like a nun!
The image on my altar is a visionary painting by Meg Falconer of Caer Ochren ‘the cold castle under the stone’ from King Arthur’s Raid on the Underworld.
For Gwyn ap Nudd
There’s a sea behind a river,
behind a brook, behind a stream,
and when the stars within it gather
He will guide the dead back home.
There’s an ocean in the cauldron
where the stars began to burn
and as our candlelight grows dimmer
He will guide the dead back home.
His is an infinite vocation
in those dark and starry seas
and when the stars depart their stations
He will guide the dead back home.
When the seas are black and bloody
and the stars are but black holes
all souls to Him He’ll gather –
He will guide the dead back home.
When the cauldron’s but a memory,
seas and stars are but a dream,
all souls in Him He’ll gather –
He will guide the dead back home.
This poem appears in the later part of my book-in-progress ‘In the Deep’ and was written by Maponos/Mabon for Vindos/Gwyn ap Nudd.
It felt fitting I share it tonight, on Nos Galan Gaeaf, as a way of honouring Gwyn as He rides out with His hunt to gather the souls of the dead.
In the background are my doorway to Annwn and photographs of my ancestors.
The Sanctuary of Vindos 