Double, double, Hearth and hovel. Round the stone and through the hollow, by sickle and spade the fields lay fallow. Double, double, Hearth and hovel. Ash on the threshold, salt by the door, names of the absent spoken once more. Branches bent low over field and fen, one year closes, another begins. Heel to earth, breath to breath, the living keep their pact with death. Come when the bells toll slow, come where the old roots show. Bring what the waning year grew, leave what it carried through. Double, double, Hearth and hovel, turn the ground and wake the hollow. Double, double, share and tithe, let the old year cross the divide. Round and round, the circle tightens, footfall answers, family gathers. Double, double, Hearth and hovel carry us through. Masks at the crossing, ribbons on thorn, bread for the gone ones, drink for the morn. Hands mark time where the pathways meet, dirt and dust beneath our feet. No one leads, no one stays; the circle keeps its older ways. Come when the bells toll slow, come where the old roots show. Bring what the waning year grew, leave what it carried through. Double, double, Hearth and hovel, turn the ground and wake the hollow. Double, double, share and tithe, let the old year cross the divide. Round and round, the circle tightens, footfall answers, family gathers. Double, double, Hearth and hovel carry us through. Who keeps the path? We do. Who keeps the names? We do. Who marks the turning? We do. Who carries onward? We do. Double, double, Hearth and hovel, earth below and branches follow. Double, double, share and tithe, let the turning be our guide. Round and round, the circle tightens, voice meets drum and body answers. Double, double, Hearth and hovel carry us through. Double... double... Hearth... and hovel... Carry us through.
