The gates of magic open wide.
A cauldron's blessings overflow.
The candle flames are dying low.
The witches dance the circle 'round
to chant and bring the power down.
Hecate will hear our call
to turn the summer into fall.
The magic veil is growing thin.
The Netherworld is near our own.
We'll see the sacred fire fed
while witches commune with the dead.
The winds of Autumn call our names.
The driving rhythm slowly calms.
The glowing embers we will tend
until the drums of Samhain end.
(unknown)
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