Some folk are born to the sunlight Their wild-fire whirls in a circle of ash Other folk are born where the stars ebb That's why their pale skin glows with mystery Some folk are born when the lime tree was growing That's why they're tall and slender Some folk are born when the lime tree was felled That's why they're fierce and wild and free Lay me down in sweet sleep Swaddled into your monastery As we ride through a bright kindred moon Fashioned by our mythology The water you bless will wash me clean We pray to your light, kindred moon Some folk are born when the cuckoo calls And they know their message in future tense Some folk are born when the corn was sewn And their eyes reflect the churches of pine Other folk were born at the dawn's edge Their spirit burns what the light never finds Lay me down in sweet sleep Swaddled into your monastery As we ride through a bright kindred moon Fashioned by our mythology The water you bless will wash me clean We pray to your light, kindred moon We pray to your light, kindred moon