Liturgy of a Dismal Solstice Sunrise

Archdruid: We welcome thee, O Sun - sibling - creature and sign of the power of the divine.

All: We can't see any poxy Sun, Eileen. You sure it's coming back this time?

Charlii: Yeah, after four blood moons, three supermoon-triggers-end-of-world-sundays and the rise of Donald Trump maybe this really is....

Young Keith: ....the End?

Moon Gibbon Folk scream and run off into the woods

Burton Dasset: But soft, what light breaks on yonder eastern horizon?

Archdruid: That's a car coming down the Ridgmont Road.

Burton: But could it be Phoebus Apollo, resplendent in his Volkswagen Passat?

Archdruid: I know you've been a bit low since InBev took over Camden Town Brewery, Burton, but that's surreal even for you.

Herne the Hunter turns up, gazes wistfully at the Eastern Horizon

Herne: Six thousand years long have I wandered the woods and leys. And I reckon it's gone for good this time.

Other Beaker Folk scream

Archdruid: OK. Let's get breakfast. Maybe the sun will appear later.

The Piper at the Gates of Dawn plays a few bars of "Lord of the Dance", then heads off to Crawley Crossing for a bacon bap.