The Ancestors Word T-Shirt

The ancestors word is in the fire's voice heard ...
The ancestors word is in the fire's voice heard ...

Before Halloween there was Samhain, a major festival of the Celtic year.
At its simplest it means summer's end and signifies the conclusion of the light half of the year.
It was a time for celebration, divination and remembering those who have gone before ... the Ancestors.

Printed on quality, ring-spun fabric this shirt is an original design and comes in unisex and ladies fit sizes:

Unisex - Small, Medium, Large, Ex Large, Ex Large
Ladies fit - 8-10, 10-12, 12-14, 14-16, 16-18

(Please note:  Ladies fit is meant to be snug so go for the bigger size if you don't want to look too busty!)

Colours:
Black
White
Red
Organge









 

Ancestors Samhain Black T-Shirt
Ancestors Word T-shirt
Red Samhain T-Shirt celebrating the ancestors
White Samhain T-Shirt celebrating the ancestors

It's a strange time of year this crossing place which goes by the name of Samhain and to others Halloween so have a care should you find yourself down by the woodside in the dark of the night ...

Come listen my friends, I’ve a story to tell,
that will freeze your blood, like a blast from hell.
Now mark my words and what did betide
when I went walking down by the wood side.

Three dark ladies gathered there,
the moon in their eyes, stars in their hair.
One in satin, a queen was she,
the second in silk and a lord’s lady.
The third I’ve not forgotten, she was dressed in cotton
and standing at her hand,
ten thousand souls to command.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies sing,
Widdershins, widdershins,
hear our hymn.

Widdershins, widdershins,
the veil grows thin,
Widdershins, widdershins,
The apple’s in spin.

Now these dark sisters made me swear,
A token I should take from the three gathered there.
The queen in satin, held out a crown
to give me rule of the land all around.
My lady in silk, offered honey and milk,
but never to be forgotten was the maid of cotton,
whose words so rare, my mind ensnared.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies cry.
Widdershins, widdershins,
soon we fly.
Widdershins, widdershins,
choose your token,
Widdershins, widdershins,
The sisters have spoken.

The queen in satin sweetly smiled,
but at her side, a thousand orphans cried.
My lady in silk, demure as a dove,
beat her slaves with a velvet glove.
But the maid in cotton, Oh never to be forgotten,
offered me to stand
with the 10,000 souls at her right hand.

Widdershins, widdershins,
The dark ladies chant.
Widdershins, widdershins,
List to our rant.
Widdershins, widdershins,
the apple is rotten.
Widdershins, widdershins,
Satin or silk or just plain cotton?

Now gather round friends, you must guide my hand,
my choice is not made, I’m yours to command.
A tyrant in satin, a task master in silk,
bring rank and great fortune from those of such ilk.
But nameless and faceless in the army of cotton,
the old order is blasted, but our souls are forgotten.

Widdershins, widdershins, the time is at hand,
three ladies, three choices, where do you stand?