Take the branches of these trees:
Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.
Make them into a human shape.
On top, a crown of horns.

Bang on the Pagan drums
While chanting prayers and song.
For He will carry them to the Gods
When our sacrifice is gone.

Bring us the torches
And dance as the fire churns.
Our sacrifice is offered
As the Wicker Man is burned.

Watch Him topple down
Dance on the cold, black ash.
Feast to a new beginning
The Spring returns at last.