BLEARY WINTER

A lost breath blows the wood awake
Remembering griefs it used to know
The sparrowhawk has seized the song
I lost so long ago
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

The seven sisters in the sky
Tend to the kitchens of the dead
Look, every lost forgotten fire
Is blazing overhead
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

The jolly boys beneath the field
The darlings of the wanton plough sing
Break our hearts cleave us apart
And fill our throats with corn
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

Only the child beneath the weeds
Weeps for the lack of love and air
Build me a little house of skin
And bone and woven hair
While the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter
For the living rub their eyes and wake from bleary winter.

(Hugh Lupton)

If you email Hugh Lupton at his site I expect he'd send you Mari Llwyd.