Dressing The Bride - Geraldine Charles

Sure, ‘twas as though the granite bones
And flesh of earthen Mother,
Rose up, said, “Well, I’ve a will to be wed
To my white and golden lover
My white, my gold-haired lover.

“He’s a son of the sun and a son of my own
So the sun and the sky I will wed,
For they say I’m owed a warrior bold
To protect the fields in my stead
To preserve the land in my stead.”

Will Sheelah-na-Gig then jig for joy?
Will fairies then dance in a ring?
Or will Morgan le Fay angrily say,
“We’ve started a terrible thing
Oh, begun a terrible thing.”

“Oh, Mother”, we said, “don’t marry that man,
We need no warriors bold and brave -
His kind will call you whore and hag,
Rip minerals from your caves,
Yes, rape iron and oil from your caves.

“No, Mother, don’t marry the son of the sun,
His sons will bring you sorrow -
They’ll shit in the ocean and piss in your wells,
For you there’ll be no tomorrow,
For all of us no tomorrow.”

And Sheelah-na-Gig won’t jig for joy,
The fairies won’t dance in a ring -
And Morgan le Fay will sadly say,
“We’ve started a terrible thing
Oh, begun a terrible thing.”

We’ll give you a day like you never had
A day of praises, joy and mirth -
Far better than tying yourself to that lad
A day for Mother Earth
Just to celebrate Mother Earth.

We’ll dress you in green; we’ll dress you in brown,
We’ll polish your lakes, from swords make ploughs,
And braid wildflowers into your crown -
And berries for your brow,
Gather berries for your brow.

And Sheelah-na-Gig will jig for joy,
The fairies will dance in a ring -
And Morgan le Fay will gravely say,
“We’ve avoided a terrible thing
Oh, escaped a terrible thing.”

But oh, my darlings, sad to say,
She wed the warrior bold and brave.
His sons forced all our maids away,
Ripping minerals from the caves,
Raping iron and oil from our caves.

So we went down to Troytown,
One cold and bitter winter’s day -
And danced into the Maizey Wheel,
And never came out again,
Not for five thousand years and a day.

And Sheelah-na-Gig is forced to church,
The fairies are no longer near.
And Morgan le Fay’s called bitch and whore,
There’s no place for the Lady here,
No, no place for the Lady here.

***

Now the dragon paths are trod again,
The veils are lifting from our eyes -
As earthen mother breaks her chains,
Flicks the warriors off like flies,
Flicks the warriors off like flies.

We’ll dress her in green; we’ll dress her in brown,
And polish her lakes, from swords make ploughs,
And braid wildflowers into her crown -
With berries for her brow,
Yes, to bind around her brow.

And Sheelah-na-Gig will jig for joy,
The fairies will dance in a ring -
And Morgan le Fay will gladly say,
“Our mother is everything
Mother Earth is everything.”

And Sheelah-na-Gig will jig for joy,
The fairies will dance in a ring -
And Morgan le Fay will sing all day,
“Our mother is everything
Mother Earth is everything.”

©2004, Geraldine Charles