On Imbolc he sleeps
In Beltane he weeps
On Lammas he schemes
In Samhaim he sweeps
With sweet music and delightful games
Lost you will be, if you were to dance
He wants in his domain you stay
But by morrow, he hath been overcame
Beware, not only in sleep he attacks
In the night with an axe
In the day with his harp
In wakefulness he leads astray
Many dreamers who forgot about day
Whose mind forgot about reality
And soared high away
Like a dragon to his gold
You will never leave his hold
Once he hath thou once in delight
He is free to bring again the blight
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