Ah, the feast (old version) of St. Walburga, and the start of summer in the Saxon calendar, and a few other things besides. We are halfway between the equinox and the summer solstice.
Of all the trees that grow so fair,
Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun,
Than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn.
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs,
(All of a Midsummer morn!)
Surely we sing no little thing,
In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Oak of the Clay lived many a day,
Or ever AEneas began.
Ash of the Loam was a lady at home,
When Brut was an outlaw man.
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town
(From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry
Of Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Yew that is old in churchyard-mould,
He breedeth a mighty bow.
Alder for shoes do wise men choose,
And beech for cups also.
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled,
And your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need,
To Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Ellum she hateth mankind, and waiteth
Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him
That anyway trusts her shade:
But whether a lad be sober or sad,
Or mellow with ale from the horn,
He will take no wrong when he lieth along
'Neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight,
Or he would call it a sin;
But - we have been out in the woods all night,
A-conjuring Summer in!
And we bring you news by word of mouth-
Good news for cattle and corn-
Now is the Sun come up from the South,
With Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs
(All of a Midsummer morn):
England shall bide till Judgment Tide,
By Oak, and Ash, and Thorn!
Granted “A Tree Song” is about midsummer, but …
Or an older version …
Spring’s leanness had slid into summer’s bounty, the dairy cows gave milk, the first fruits of the forest were available, and life had improved with the warming of the year.
In the Saxon lands, the forces of mischief and evil had rallied on the Brocken on Walpurgisnacht, but with sunrise the light scattered them. The Wild Hunt rode farther west and north, woe betide anyone out when the hounds sounded their cry from the skies overhead! But that too had passed until after summer…perhaps.
Perhaps.
Cat Rotator's Quarterly 