We three crones of magic-past are,
Bearing gifts, we traverse afar,
Fields & fountain, moor & mountain,
Following each our star.
Oh, star of wonder, star of might,
Star of radiant beauty bright,
Inward leading, still proceeding,
Guide us with thy magick light.
Gold I bring, the Earth's hidden gleam,
Guards our Mem'ry, draws forth our dream;
Weary-curing, strong enduring,
Holding time's circling stream.
Frankincense I carry with me.
Incense aids the spirit to see;
Analyzing, wize, up-rising,
Sense of the Earth, flow free!
Myrrh is mine, it's bitter perfume
Lifts new life, a magical broom;
Praying, flying, purifying,
Away with old lingering gloom.
Glorious gifts of magic (wimmin) we praise,
Maiden, Mother, Ancient of Days;
Strength, and sense, and energy; whence
Return to our sacred ways.