Hymn: Ring out Solstice Bells
Archdruid: As the sun sets over the woods of Woburn Abbey, let us proclaim our Solstice Lament.
All: Raise your banners high / Don't die, Sun, don't die.
Archdruid: Ah no, it's gone.
All: Raise your banners high / Goodbye, Sun, goodbye.
Archdruid: At this death of the year, the sun returns to its long rest. / The earth shudders, the flustercock* heads to its nest.
All: It is the end of times. It is the start of times.
Archdruid: Raise your seasonal mistletoe
All: And snog the next person in the row?
Archdruid: No.
All: Thank goodness for that.
Archdruid: Let us take a moment to mark the passing of this solar year. We have travelled round the sun 4.6 billion times.
Burton: That's quite a round number. Shouldn't we have had a bit more of a party?
Archdruid: It's an approximation.
Young Keith: Any chance of a pint?
Archdruid: The ancient Beaker People gathered at their stone circles today. Feasted on their slaughtered pigs and called on the sun to return.
Young Keith: But they probably had a jar of mead?
Archdruid: A beaker, you mean?
Young Keith: Good point.
Archdruid: But not till they'd lit the Wicker Person.
Hymn: It's the End of the World as we Know it
The Beaker Folk may bump into each other in the dark, as they return to the Great House.
* ancient Bedfordshire word for a male pheasant, which I just made up
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