The maiden sitting by her pool Was first to hear my pleas As she gazed into the water She recited these words to me: Walk not down that road I can not tell you where it goes Ask me no more questions Some things you weren't meant to know The mother toiling in the fields Her apron full of seeds She dropped them to the earth As she recited these words to me: Walk not down that road I can not tell you where it goes Ask me no more questions Some things you weren't meant to know The greater mysteries Cannot be shown Divided by three They are the maiden, the mother, the crone Finally I found the crone Walking through the trees She looked in my eyes As she recited these words to me: Go before the maiden Fall down to your knees Should you win her favor She may tell you what she sees The harvest is reaped Seeds are sown Multiplied by three She is the maiden, the mother, the crone