Happy Lammas!

Waterhouse, Sweet Summer

Lughnasadh, or Lammas, is one of the eight so called Celtic festivals, traditionally celebrated between the first and second of August.

It originated as a feast celebrating the Irish deity of light, Lugh, later encompassing all harvest godheads, honouring the beginning of the reaping season with community gatherings and markets.

One of the traditional songs during this time of the year is Hoof and Horn:

Hoof and horn, hoof and horn,

All that dies shall be reborn.

Corn and grain, corn and grain,

All that falls shall rise again.

We are one with the goddess,

And to her we shall return,

Like a drop, of rain,

Flowing to the ocean.

Isis, Astarte, Diana, Hecate,

Demeter, Kali, Inanna.

Hoof and horn, hoof and horn,

All that dies shall be reborn.

Corn and grain, corn and grain,

All that falls shall rise again.

We are one with the goddess,

And to her we shall return,

Like a drop, of rain,

Flowing to the ocean.

(listen to the song, below)

This is the climax of warmth and luminosity, exuberance and performance. The festival also heralds imminent changes, for it is as well the funerary feast of the god of light, which involves acknowledging cold and darkness, the other polarity of the cycle. This feature is celebrated by the folk song "John Barleycorn Must Die".

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try

And these three men made a solemn vow

John Barleycorn must die

They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in

Threw clods upon his head

And these three men made a solemn vow

John Barleycorn was dead

They've let him lie for a very long time, 'til the rains from heaven did fall

And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all

They've let him stand 'til Midsummer's Day 'til he looked both pale and wan

And little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man

They've hired men with their scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee

They've rolled him and tied him by the waist serving him most barbarously

They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart

And the loader he has served him worse than that 

For he's bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him around and around a field 'til they came unto a barn

And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn

They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone

And the miller he has served him worse than that 

For he's ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last

The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn

And the tinker he can't mend kettle or pots without a little barleycorn

(listen to the song, below)

© Franco Santoro, info@astroshamanism.org

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