By: Jerome Brooke
Queen of night, dance madly,
Dance till you do fall.
Priestess of the moon, spin in joy,
Lost in the circle, ruler of all.
The moon fades, shelter it does seek,
Distant in the sky. �
Do not depart, goddess high,
Our song, surely does not lie.
See the maiden fair, bound in chains of gold,
No man has she known.
Her pure blood will drip, run from the altar,
Altar of dark stone.