It's Halloween or Samhein on Friday and the start of what the Celts called the Long Dark which means lots of velvety evenings by brightly burning fires supping something warming and frightening ourselves witless with the weird and wonderful! Hopefully I'll be doing just than at our Halloween party, starting with this poem!

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Three Dark Ladies

Come listen my friends, I’ve a story to tell,
that will freeze your blood, like a blast from hell.
Now mark my words and what did betide
when I went walking down by the wood side.

Three dark ladies gathered there,
the moon in their eyes, stars in their hair.
One in satin, a queen was she,
the second in silk and a lord’s lady.
The third I’ve not forgotten, she was dressed in cotton
and standing at her hand,
ten thousand souls to command.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies sing,
Widdershins, widdershins,
hear our hymn.
Widdershins, widdershins,
the veil grows thin,
Widdershins, widdershins,
The apple’s in spin.

Now these dark sisters made me swear,
A token I should take from the three gathered there.
The queen in satin, held out a crown
to give me rule of the land all around.
My lady in silk, offered honey and milk,
but never to be forgotten was the maid of cotton,
whose words so rare, my mind ensnared.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies cry.
Widdershins, widdershins,
soon we fly.
Widdershins, widdershins,
chose your token,
Widdershins, widdershins,
The sisters have spoken.

The queen in satin sweetly smiled,
but at her side, a thousand orphans cried.
My lady in silk, demur as a dove,
beat her slaves with a velvet glove.
But the maid in cotton, Oh never to be forgotten,
offered me to stand
with the 10,000 souls at her right hand.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies chant.
Widdershins, widdershins,
List to our rant.
Widdershins, widdershins,
the apple is rotten.
Widdershins, widdershins,
Satin or silk or just plain cotton?

Now gather round friends, you must guide my hand,
my choice is not made, I’m yours to command.
A tyrant in satin, a task master in silk,
bring rank and great fortune from those of such ilk.
But nameless and faceless in the army of cotton,
the old order is blasted, but our souls are forgotten.
Widdershins, widdershins, the time is at hand,
three ladies, three choices, where do you stand?