The Ley of the Land: written in the ink of the ancient first Firs

I walk down the Ley like I did in the days of old.
The last of the Cole-Men as history has foretold.

Yet still I track true to the Ley
You could say I walk the straight line.

Taking the pulse along Mothers hurt vein.

Without the Dragon's breath, I feel the great pain

Still  I stay to the Ley and retake the Ley of the land,
Even as it breaks my heart this total destruction I understand.

At every Cross-Ley, New Rome in Mother's heart a stake did lay.
Blocking the Dragons breath in each direction of its sacred way.

This new Civis man has killed the Leys and poisoned the line.

Lost are the ancient Trackways that stretched back through time.

Now Churches and petro pumps stand on the Folks Moot
But then there is no Druid to take the toll of the folks vote.

There are no Cole-men to clean and survey the line.
In New Rome to carry a Cole-Staff is a high crime.

This new man no longer follows the Druid's lost tribe.
But worships cold steel, concert, and Silver the bribe

He is no longer a child of our sweet Earth
Nor the proud and honest son of our Sun

Even the Moon looks down upon him with a silver tear.
For of the Pagus heart beat there is none left that can hear.

Ask not why the soul of Humanity is in such a de-Ley

Still plagued with endless wars and can not find its way.

But ask the old and new Romans that killed straight of the Ley

And caused all the old Druids to follow the Fae.

Dedicated to my old friend Alfred Watkins 1855-1935 a great Man with a Druid's Heart

The Druid King

Copyright George King 03-27-2012