Text - Witch's Rede

Hear now the words of the Witches, the secrets we hid in the night.
When dark was our destiny’s pathway. That now we bring forth into the night.

The birth and rebirth of all nature, the passing of Winter and Spring.
We share with the Life Universal, rejoice in the Eternal Magickal Ring.

Four times a year the Great Sabbats, return, and the Witches are seen,
At Lammas and Candlemas dancing, on May Eve and ‘ole Halloween.

When daytime and nighttime are equal, when the Sun is at its greatest and least,
the four Lesser Sabbats are summoned, again, the Witches gather in feast.

Thirteen Silver Moons in a year there are. Thirteen is the Coven’s array.
Thirteen times at Esbat make merry, for each year and a day.

The power has passed down through the ages, each time between man and woman.
Each century unto the other, ‘ere times and ages began.

When drawn is the Magickal Circle, by sword or Athame’s power,
It’s a compass between two worlds lies in the Land of Shadows of that hour.

Our world has no right to know it, and the world beyond will tell naught.
The oldest of Gods are invoked there, the great works of magick is wrought.

For two are the mystical pillars, that stand at the gate of the shrine,
and two are the powers of Nature, the forms and the forces divine.