Hendon Heathens

Introduction

We have a lot of fun at our summer camps!

Hendon Heathens

Since Phil's mead still brings, out the noble beast,

We still have our seats, at the drinking feast.

And time to wassail, wilt never have ceased,

Under Yggdrasil tree.

Blessing bread and mead, hammer bearing priest,

To noble Wotan, in the heathen east.

Offer it around, prelude to the feast,

And let's all be carefree.

Horns to the ready, and pass the best brew,

Lift up thy long horns, to good friends and true.

Let's swear allegiance, to us Heathen few,

All merry let us be.

To that magical wife, in secret wood glade,

A small oak stands where, libations are made.

Growing where Donna's, ashes were last laid,

We still wassail to thee.

To old Heathen gods, every one drink hale,

Drink it like a Dane, and tell a tall tale.

Let's all see who can, drink the most real ale,

And merry let us be.

Bring us more good ale, we'll raise our great horn,

Up with pointy end, drink to Barleycorn.

There's a lot to drink, before break of dawn,

So we down it with glee.

A few stalwarts drank, long into the night,

A long drinking rite, to the local Wight.

The sound of singing, until the first light,

With Phil's mead from the bee.

To lady bed straw, late for second sleep,

Back to the cold tent, the stall worts now creep.

Collapse in a heap, into the sleep deep,

Wake up in time for tea.

Copyright Andrew Rea May 2018