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Hey hon! Thanks for your comment! That was TOO CUTE! AS for giving up on you? NAH! I'm not that easy to get rid of. LMAO! Hey hope you’re having a super Friday! Vila
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Have a happy brand new week, hon! Vila
John Barleycorn
There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn must die.
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
and show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
The sultry suns of Summer came,
and he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
and cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
Marilee (aka Snowfire)
Esoteric Consultant / Shaman
Ancestral Coalescence
www.ancestralcoalescence.net
To each one of us the magical seashell whispers a different ocean song. Some of us hear simply the soft comforting hush of currents rushing by. Others see in their mind's eye images of little mermaid children playing with dolphins and glistening shell chariots racing by, drawn by sea unicorns and guarded by none other than King Neptune himself. Let each one of us listen to the magic song we hear and share it with those we love.
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