La la la primevara
connects the three the three
in blue dreadlocks with strong furor
as witches of night they be
servant monks bow to queen mother terror
in a naked dance to ancient tree
for too long
they ignore her song
as our ladies freely dream of Hera
the spirits of life flee
from the sanctuary none dearer
as they dance in the chamber and plea
circling round moist dungeon none the fairer
while gracefully amused they all agree
connected intuitively as bearer
of growth and decay of all you see
laughing midst ancient oak
the graceful muse of sacred temple spoke