The maiden sitting by her pool

Was first to hear my pleas

As she gazed into the water

She recited these words to me:



Walk not down that road

I can not tell you where it goes

Ask me no more questions

Some things you weren't meant to know



The mother toiling in the fields

Her apron full of seeds

She dropped them to the earth

As she recited these words to me:



Walk not down that road

I can not tell you where it goes

Ask me no more questions

Some things you weren't meant to know



The greater mysteries

Cannot be shown

Divided by three

They are the maiden, the mother, the crone



Finally I found the crone

Walking through the trees

She looked in my eyes

And she recited these words to me:



Go before the maiden

Fall down to your knees

Should you win her favor

She may tell you what she sees



The harvest is reaped

Seeds are sown

Multiplied by three

She is the maiden, the mother, the crone