top of page

A Faerie Song

Red Rider, Red Rider

upon your pale horse

in your basket you gather

the slain from their wars.

Ridea, Ridea,

with bells all a-ringing

the music is wailing,

the faeries are singing:

Let it boil, let it burn,

Time will turn, time will turn.

You will be gone, but we shall remain.

Behind the rain, behind the rain.

10 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

There's been a lot of talk of late spawned by John Becket's Patheos blog post from July 9th called "The Witch Stands In Opposition," in response to Ian Chamber's blog post "Remembering the Witch" and

bottom of page