The old living temple
Shrouded in the robe of the night
With its convention gathered
For a ceremony of life and blight
The legends we are living
We make the womb for its birth
The struggle to keep going
To face the danger with mirth
The home of ancient spirits
The battles we all live in
The lusts we all obey
Keeper of the grove
It is our joy, it is our pain
It’s a war without reason
It’s pleasure to undertake
Keeper of the grove
The owl, the lynx, the maggot
With heads to the floor
Every nymph, troll or dryad
Both beauty and the abhorred.
The laws we follow blindly
Of his undying reign
Feelings, doings, shallow or deep
Logical or insane
Who is the keeper of the grove
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