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            ms

. Burning Times   
(C. Murphy) (Chorus/K. Upton)

 In the cool of the evening,
they used to gather. 
In forest and in meadows,
beneath the starry sky.
 At times appointed,
by the seasons of the earth
and the phases of the moon.

 In the center, stood a woman
equal with the others
and respected for her worth.
 One of the many,
called the witches,
the healers and the teachers
of the wisdom of the earth.

 The people grew,
thru the knowledge she gave them. 
Herbs to heal their bodies,
spells to make
their spirits whole.
 Sharing power, in celebration,
calling forth the wise ones,
in joyful dance and song.

Chorus:
We must stand strong,
uniting as one.
We all belong
to the sacred song.

Those who came to power, and domination
bonded in the worship
of a dead man on a cross.
 They sought control
of the common people 
by a forced allegiance
to the church of Rome.

 And the Pope declared
the Inquisition,
a war against the women,
whose power
they did fear. 
In this holocaust
against the nature people -
Nine million European women died!

 Now, the earth is witch,
and we still burn her,
stripping her with mining
and poisons of our wars.
 Still, to us, she is a healer,
a teacher, our Mother. 
She’s the weaver of the web
of life that keeps us all alive.

And the tale is told
of those by the hundreds,
Holding hand together,
chose their death in the sea.
While chanting praises
of the Mother Goddess,
A refusal of betrayal,
women were dying to be free.

Chorus:
 She gives us the vision
to see through the chaos. 
She gives us the courage;
it is our will to survive!