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The
Crone, she looks so scary
With her wrinkles
And her rheumy eyes And though the people know she's wise
Her cackle makes them shudder
They say she's brewing poison
In her cauldron
She's the bane of men
Those seeking her ne'er seen again
Save in tales of horror
But I know Grandma
A Crone she may be
Far wiser than me
Her wrinkles dear earned
With pain and with love
Her eyes have ne'er seen clearer
They say she's a destroyer
With her songs of doom Her songs of death
But I know she brings peaceful rest
And rebirth on the morrow
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She's
Guardian of the Crossroads
In choosing for
We choose against
She measures us and shears the lengths
Her crow-call leads us homeward
And I know Grandma
A Crone she may be
Far wiser than me
Her wrinkles dear earned
With pain and with love
Her eyes Eternity's mirror
The Crone, she looks so tender
With her wrinkles
And her rheumy eyes
And though I trust her loving wise
Her cackle makes me shudder
--
Lionrhod 1995
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