Coming to a church in a thick wood, 
we left our luggage in the yard 
and a holy elder greeted us. 

He led us neither to the right, nor left 
as we followed him quaking, arm in arm, 
past taper-bearers, gliding to and fro 

and star-wits, talking mouth to mouth, 
past leeches, suckling at new-born lambs 
that fell off bloated into cups of wine. 

We walked straight on to the holy board 
where the High-father stood in his snow-white shift 
horning the godspell with a long nose, 

while ghosts and shiners thronged about, 
and over the board hung two winged sisters 
and under the board was a milking-pail. 

Now the High-father dipped us in holy water 
and fastened our hands and souls together 
till today was tomorrow, as long as my arm. 

Then clean-washed as little babes unborn, 
godwritten, weeping, we took new birth 
where a lovely moon, was, flickering, on the flood!