All: So what are we doing, on this heath....
Marston Moretaine: .... this blasted heath....
All: ...this blasted heath, at getting on for Midnight...
Marston: The Witching Hour! The Witching Hour!
Archdruid: We're celebrating the Equinox.
All: Isn't that tomorrow?
Archdruid: It turns out not. It's tonight. Or, today. Or was. It was this morning.
All: So Hnaef's Tightrope Walk over the Duckpond, celebrating the Equinoctial balance?
Archdruid: Nah, scrapped.
All: Gazing on the Midday, Midway Sun?
Archdruid: Too late. Forget it.
All: Celebrating the Sun's sojourn over the eternal equator?
Archdruid: Nah, not important. It's happened.
All: Celebrating the days getting longer, but more slowly?
Archdruid: Isn't that a bit like the rate of inflation slowing? That's too complicated for anyone.
Marston: But we're out here, on Aspley Heath. And it's dark. And there mght be a badger. (He begins to howl)
All: A BADGER? (All may start to cry, and run for the car park, tripping over log barriers and small nocturnal animals. e.g. badgers)
Hymn: I hear the sound of rustling (and I'm worried it's a badger)