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Lads light the logs, though low
and tame,
Lasses offer each lad their hand.
They together jump the flickering flame,
Grow fertile like the greening land.
Lads to go clockwise 'round,
Lasses always widdershins bound,
As the fires of Beltaine burn.
Lads build up high the Beltaine fire,
Lasses tie blooms and ribbons tight.
Lads raise the pole close by the pyre,
Lasses' clap loudly with glee, delight.
Lads to go clockwise 'round,
Lasses always widdershins bound,
As the fires of Beltaine burn.
Lasses dance 'round with menstrual red,
Lads prance 'round in seedly white.
The lass and lad together bed,
A wee babe made that Beltaine night.
Lads to go clockwise 'round,
Lasses always widdershins bound,
As the fires of Beltaine burn.
-Dobhran 1999
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