b**h. Badb
Witch, old crone:
They call you the field hag
Yours is the weed and the sage
Barren one, yet you contain fertile depths
Dry one, yet you are lush, deep within
They call you the field hag
It is you who makes the pastures green
Field hag I shall provide thou offering
In obeisance I await your conjuring
"Tie her down when the moon is nice and round
Smoke her with this smoke under moon and ember."
Old crone holds me down
Speaks of things profound:
"She must be immersed down in coulee
When all is done bury her in prairie thrall."
The moon is full under autumn chill:
Capture the village maiden -
Perform the ritual of the Field Hag
Rigid and cold as impending winter
Hag's cruel grasp of ice:
Molestation by the cold night
Break the earth with spade and wonder
There I bury her, in the coulee
Village maiden rests in the coulee:
An offering to the field hag
The old crone is wise and kind
I give gifts to the wise field hag
When the snow queen departs:
The coulee begins its thaw
The field hag unearths the village maiden
And uses her remains for magic