Solstice Wonderland

In the shops, songs are playing,
singing of snow and sleighing.
And the Lord of Misrule
Drives the pagans at Yule
To be dreaming of a ritual wonderland.

Wiccans wrap cloaks more tightly
And coax the logs to burn brightly
But in dark of the night
It’s their hems burning bright
In a ritual in a solstice wonderland.

Here we see a group of ardent Druids
Meeting by the moon to greet the dawn;
Wanting to proclaim the new-born solstice
And drinking lots of cider to stay warm.

In the morn, all the Druids
Frozen stiff, despite fluids
In white robes so grand.
Like snowmen they stand
Rooted in a solstice wonderland.

Safe indoors a group of Heathens gather,
Pass the mead horn round to toast a god.
And before each drink they generally blather
Until they pass out drunk – which isn’t odd.

At midday, someone rouses,
To find only empty houses.
In dead of the night
They’ve been taken by wights
Wandering in a solstice wonderland.

Sometime they’re discovered by the coppers
Roaming trouserless up on the hills.
When asked to give a reason for their actions
They say they’re saving Druids from deep chills.

Then the Wiccans with their burnt hems
Come to melt the Druid snowmen
And all that company
Most happily agree
It’s a perfect winter solstice wonderland.