The bells the bangs the whistles 

Have long since faded away

Replaced by gentle rain falling

On this New Year’s Day,

The sirens are a’wailing 

In the distance cry

Tell me my owls there hanging

Where does my future lie?

Shine the crystal, prepare the pens and more

Welcome you dear strangers

Welcome to my door,

Come in, come in you’re welcome

Tis tradition that I adore 

Let us tell our stories 

Let us entertain in many ways, let us in no way be dullards or witless cold hearted bores.


Look into the crystal!

See the lidless eye

As outside the rain still falls

And somewhere out there lonely hearts open up and cry,

Mercy? Mercy  tell me, I you lady fair, will you not be gentle? Walk with me softly weaving dreams spun from your golden hair, then with such craft as I can muster my heart will surely share.

Fate? Fate be kind, grant me favours as soft as your sweetest kiss, and I will be true and honest, my honour will not then miss.

Luck? Luck o dearest lady, fairest of them all, grant me your good favours and I will never fall.


The inks sit there waiting along with pen made out of glass

The words call and gather, on pages appear by many hands at last

Tell me o my owls on open widow pane 

What stories you have to tell me, come now, let me hear your soft refrain.

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