Proserpina
The Green summer is gone,
Mama, mama,
It’s passing away with the world.
Beneath the earth, I’m called,
Mama, mama,
Release me from your hold.
Leaves collapse, she-balsams bend,
Mama, mama,
We beg them back to life.
Autumn chills goosepimpled skin,
Mama, mama,
Leave candles burning bright.
Crops will freeze if left alone,
Mama, mama,
These mountain’ll starve.
People’ll pray for springtime,
Mama, mama,
Bumming you for a warmer hearth.
Winter is coming,
Mama, mama,
Gonna take me far away.
My love’ll whisper in morning dew,
Mama, mama,
But still, you’ve gotta stay.