Upon the hill a fire burns,

And people feast

The summer in.

Upon the hill the old year turns,

The winter beast

Flees from the din.

Upon the hill is where we learn

The olden ways, and not the least,

The path that’s followed by our kin.

Upon the hill is where I yearn,

To watch the sun rise in the east,

And feel its magic on my skin.

So burn, bright fire, magic blood,

Spill and sow for summer’s good,

And raise the grain, the bloom, the bud.