The Field Hag Lyrics

Bitch. Badb.
Witch, old crone:
They call you the field hag,
Yours is the weed and the sage.

Barren one, yet you contain fertile depths,
Dry one, yet you are lush, deep within,
They call you the field hag,
It is you who makes the pastures green.

Field hag I shall provide thou offering,
In obeisance I await your conjuring,
"Tie her down when the moon is nice and round,
Smoke her with this smoke under moon and ember."

Old crone holds me down,
Speaks of things profound:
"She must be immersed down in coulee
When all is done bury her in prairie thrall."

The moon is full under autumn chill:
Capture the village maiden -
Perform the ritual of the Field Hag,
Rigid and cold as impending winter.

Hag's cruel grasp of ice:
Molestation by the cold night,
Break the earth with spade and wonder,
There I bury her, in the coulee.

Village maiden rests in the coulee:
An offering to the field hag,
The old crone is wise and kind,
I give gifts to the wise field hag.

When the snow queen departs:
The coulee begins its thaw.
The field hag unearths the village maiden,
And uses her remains for magic.