At the Tide of High Midsummer,
when all the world al all aglow,
the cold and frost and hardship
are just memories of snow
At the Tide of High Midsummer,
when Sunna's shining high,
the bonfires and the balefires
will color nighttime sky.
At the Tide of High Midsummer,
when the corn is soft and green,
across the fields and pastures
herds of cattle can be seen.
At the Tide of High Midsummer,
when the mead is flowing free,
round harrow with my kinsmen
is where I want to be.
Hail Ravenswood
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