Some folk are born to the sunlight
Their wild-fire whirls in a circle of ash
Other folk are born where the stars ebb
That's why their pale skin glows with mystery
Some folk are born when the lime tree was growing
That's why they're tall and slender
Some folk are born when the lime tree was felled
That's why they're fierce and wild and free
Lay me down in sweet sleep
Swaddled into your monastery
As we ride through a bright kindred moon
Fashioned by our mythology
The water you bless will wash me clean
We pray to your light, kindred moon
Some folk are born when the cuckoo calls
And they know their message in future tense
Some folk are born when the corn was sewn
And their eyes reflect the churches of pine
Other folk were born at the dawn's edge
Their spirit burns what the light never finds
Lay me down in sweet sleep
Swaddled into your monastery
As we ride through a bright kindred moon
Fashioned by our mythology
The water you bless will wash me clean
We pray to your light, kindred moon
We pray to your light, kindred moon