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I wrote this as a Praise Offering for the Grove's Samhain ritual in 2006. I worked against my normal tendency to rhyme, and the result surprised me. My Song for the Dagda As middle age surprises me And things aren't working quite as well I notice, too, my pants are tight And sight is fading, too, you see, *** And then I think of You, my Lord, Your tunic is too short, and so And massive belly, porridge filled, I look at You, and at myself, *** Again, I think of You, my Lord, Your cauldron always satisfies, But 'tis not these I'm thinking of, Oh no, it is Your mighty club; *** Your club can batter men to death, Of course, my club is not so great - But both our clubs show vibrant life - Your passion fills my frightened soul, *** O mighty God, Great Dagda Mor, Without great passion, what's the point? Each day's a blessing, waste it not, And if the folk should point and stare *** For as You do it, so shall I! |