Sun rose misty above these reeds
Bitterns boom was heard low and clear
Fowl, fish, and flora; this land met needs
When we spoke, our ancestors would hear
♦
The old gods lived in this wetland
Before you claimed rights to its shore
From our causeways votives laid by hand
Named dead barrowed, below earth they cared for
♦
Monolith church looms over our Witham
Stationed abbeys twelve on this modest Fenland
Blocked access by log boat to cause a schism
Our gods went to sleep, not forsaken but banned
♦
Your holy houses have fallen in spurn
Our Customs are longer rooted than yours
Remote rituals preserved in myth can return
Belief is Persistent and Grant Avon endures
♦
Forget El, return to the way we began
Offer praise for our river goddess’ return
Give the Lamb to Marsh Wyrm or Tiddy Mun
Look back for guidance, show nature concern
♦
Sun still rises misty above these reeds
Again, Bitterns boom heard low and clear
Fowl, fish, and flora may again meet our needs
When we speak our ancestors will hear
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