[Verse 1 – bright, kindling joy] Kindle the light, my brothers and sisters, in every heart that’s gone cold and dim, Laugh in the face of the gathering darkness, sing till the shadows grow weary of him. For joy is a blade no evil can parry, a fire no night can outrun— So lift up your voices and kindle the morning till the oldest of stars joins the fun! [Verse 2 – steady, protective] Shelter the light where the small things are growing, the fawn in the thicket, the seed in the loam, Stand as the oak over trembling young saplings when winter winds howl at their home. Let no blight touch the bloom of tomorrow, let no axe bite the innocent green— We are the shield of the fragile and hopeful, the wardens of all that’s unseen. [Chorus – full voice, everyone joins, arms swaying] This is the Oath of the Ancients, old as the first dawn’s gleam— To kindle and shelter the light of the world, to live in the world’s oldest dream. We swear by the Thornwood, the river, the sky, by the laughter that outlives the pain— The summer will always come after the winter while one of us yet remains! [Verse 3 – fierce, rising] Be the light when the darkness comes calling, a lantern no storm can blow out, Let fury burn bright as the midsummer sunrise when evil creeps hungry about. Strike with the joy of the living green thunder, with root and with thorn and with vine— For beauty is worth every drop of our blood and wonder itself is divine! [Verse 4 – gentle again, reverent] Preserve what is beautiful, wild, and unbreaking, the song of the lark, the hush of the glade, The ancient first magic that set the stars dancing and taught every river its braid. We guard not for glory, nor gold, nor for kingdoms— we guard it because it is true: The world is a gift that keeps giving forever, and we are its guardians too. [Final Chorus – slower, then swelling huge, voices layered like leaves] This is the Oath of the Ancients, old as the first green flame— To kindle and shelter and be the bright light that carries the world’s living name. We swear by the Thornwood, the river, the sky, by the wonder that outshines the pain— The summer will always come after the winter while one of us yet remains… While one of us yet remains.
