Autumn time, the wheel has turned and the animals ready for sleeping.

Autumn time, the wheel has turned and the leaves are brightly dying.

And we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance Her circle slowly

And we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance to all Her glory.

Harvest time, the wheel has turned and the fruit is ripe for the plucking.

Harvest time, the wheel has turned and the corn is ready for reaping.

And we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance Her circle slowly

And we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance to all Her glory.

Autumn time, the Goddess mourns for Her lover, died in the reaping.

Harvest time, the wheel has turned and the Lady softly retreating.

Still we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance Her circle slowly

And we bring our light to the ancient rite

As we dance to Her mourning glory.