Askew! Askew my works have gone! Withershins was cast the circle and broken all I’ve wrought.
I’ve lost the prize I sought to win, the lady’s heart, an now I stand in my chagrin. I must cast all away and return to where I did begin.
With breath born of blessed of air, I shall her praises and her virtues sing.
From the bussom of the sacred earth I shall flowers and goodly herbs till and bring.
By the holy flowing waters shall I change my glamoured face, that she love me anew and forget my tall disgrace.
Of the sanctioned beltane fire shall I offer all my life and passion, never to burn to ash or tire.
Askew all my world may be, but lady yet unchanged I seek my way to thee. Lady true, let us lay aside all ire an welcome be unto each the other.
Now to peace and unto rest. I find succour and forgiveness at the lady’s breast. I come to you lady, you who above all other and all else I love the best.