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There is a night that calls my name.
Deep in the woods
The fog creeps through the trees.
I hear the call of the ancient souls
The wolf howl and the laughing crone.
The foxfire trips over fae wings
And whispers tales of old,
The Sidhe and Tuatha De Danaan
Dining on their plates of gold.
‘Tis ancient as my soul I hear
‘Tis nothing wrong, no woe
‘Tis just my ancient Celtic soul
Calling from long ago.
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