• Lyrics: play full screen play karaoke
• Beltane - Jethro Tull
• Beltane - Barathrum
• Beltane - Tuatha De Danann
• Ophelia - Beltane
• Air - Beltane

Have you ever stood in the April wood and called the new year in?
While the phantoms of three thousand years fly as the dead leaves spin?
There's a snap in the grass behind your feet and a tap upon your shoulder.
And the thin wind crawls along your neck it's just the old gods getting older.
And the kestral drops like a fall of shot and the red cloud hanging high
come a Beltane.
Have you ever loved a lover of the old elastic truth?
And doted on the daughter in the ministry of youth?
Thrust your head between the breasts of the fertile innocent.
And taken up the cause of love, for the sake of argument.
Or while the kisses drop like a fall of shot from soft lips in the rain
come a Beltane.
Happy old new year to you and yours.
The sun's up for one more day, to be sure.
Play it out gladly, for your card's marked again.
Have you walked around your parks and towns so knife-edged orderly?
While the fires are burned on the hills upturned in far-off wild country.
And felt the chill on your window-sill as the green man comes around.
With his walking cane of sweet hazel brings it crashing down.
Sends your knuckles white as the thin stick bites. Well, it's just your groaning pains.
Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane.
Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane.
Come a Beltane. Come a Beltane.

Forest By Night
Dancing Shadows
Witches Burn Fire
It Is Beltane
Sanctissime Colere Beltane
Sanctissime Colere Satanas
Fullmoon So Pale
Like Bones Of Dead
Skeleton Exhumed
To Feast With Dark Ones
Sanctissime Colere Beltane

we desere to know- how all this begin
the drvid's knowledge now is just our past
but the beltane's fire still burn on our veins
we cannot reject our past and our dreams
when the flames of behame shine again on these days
our blood will run sthronger then
the land prosperity is the hands of our queen
when she find again the horned king
they" run in the woods to make the oldest dance
the fall of winter rise summer (spring)
beltane- beltane
your fire light my soul and now i'm waiting again or you
beltane- beltane
the flames of your fire now is turning on my desire
that is the day- great beautiful day
wite the both sides- raise your head with pride
dance in the fire- ecstasyin the woods
embrace the may queen- insanier fly
the music is over king/ queen around the fire
the fire of beltane is calling us
beltane...
beltane...

There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers nettles, daisies, and long purples
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them
There on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook, her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes
As one incapable of her own distress
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element; but long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink.
Ophelia! Ophelia!

It flows through Earth
Like blood in our veins.
Raging forward
With coldness inside.
Through the harshness
Of a winterworld.
It sends the loneliness
By our side.
The invisible bringer of bitterness.
As lakes iced over it howls through the night.
Spiralling, turning and swirling around.
The breath of our world on unstoppable flight.
Raging forward with darkness inside.
It also sends freedom by our side.
Creating the impenetrably cope
But gives motion for our sails of hope.
The wind captures the feelings inside.
Blizzards torture with merciless bites.
The raging air stings when we breathe.
Unleashed storm evokes sorrow and grief.
The forests are cloaked in a coating of snow.
Also a shadow rose around the soul.
When we pulse is only a weak and slow call.
The wind has given beauty at all.
The wind freezes tears to spikes.
From water to ice to dew of our eyes.
A captured moment, a picture of pain.
Expressions for a little more time regained.
The wind captures the feelings inside.
Blizzards torture with merciless bites.
The raging air stings when we breathe.