So hold my hand, we’ll take this land,
we’ll fly from bay to bay,
'cos hawthorne mends a broken heart,
it’s the giver of hope they say-o
it’s the giver of hope they say
Singing shallelai, said the buds and the lyre, won’t you sing your song today
Plant your feet in the now, this is holy ground,
and this is the lay of the land–o–this is the lay of the land
The rhythm of the heart it is the only path
In the beat there is always chance
Cleansing in fire and spring comes fast
We will sing we will love we will dance-o-we will sing we will love we will dance
So dance into the sacred place
In the grief, the blood and the thorns
Wait without hope and wait without joy
Then ascend, release, transform-o-ascend release transform
So the hawthorn mends a broken heart
When we join our self inside
With he who does and she who feels
This is the turning of the wedding tide-o-this is the turning of the wedding tide