Bealtaine and May Flowers

marsh marigold

To Wish you all the very best this Bealtaine Eve, may the sun shine warm and long, with just a little of Irish mist to keep the green this summer.

I believe there is certain times in the year when TIME itself, sort of stands still for just a moment. For me Bealtaine Eve has always been one of those moments, like there is magic in the air, when anything or all things can happen. And to me Bealtaine Eve starts with gathering Marsh Marigold one of my top favourite flowers. This flower brings back great memories from childhood when my Grandfather would bring me to gather the “Mayflower for the Lady” as he said and I knew he meant the Lady of the Land.

So, on Bealtaine Eve if I do no other, I keep the old tradition and I gather the Mayflower to hang on the door and light the bonfire as the sun goes down. This eve the showers held off just long enough to enjoy the bonfire and lighting a candle from the bonfire we return in doors for a drink and to listen to a song by Jethro Tull.

The Jethro Tull bit, I added some years ago to my Bealtaine Eve traditions. I have given the youtube link and the lyrics below. So give it a listen to and sing along I think you’ll enjoy.

Jethro tull cup of wonder.

 

May I make my fond excuses for the lateness of the hour,
but we accept your invitation, and we bring you Beltane’s flower.
For the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay will heed the song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Ask the green man where he comes from, ask the cup that fills with red.
Ask the old grey standing stones that show the sun its way to bed.
Question all as to their ways, and learn the secrets that they hold.
Walk the lines of nature’s palm crossed with silver and with gold.
Pass the cup and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.
Join in black December’s sadness, lie in August’s welcome corn.
Stir the cup that’s ever-filling with the blood of all that’s born.
But the May Day is the great day, sung along the old straight track.
And those who ancient lines did lay will heed this song that calls them back.
Pass the word and pass the lady, pass the plate to all who hunger.
Pass the wit of ancient wisdom, pass the cup of crimson wonder.

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