Before the black candles on the altar
The priestess blesses the participants and invokes the great god Pan
The kiss of the beast, the promise of naked bodies
Dedicating themselves to the godhead
Thrill with the pulsing lust of night
O Pan! Great Pan!
Thunder your hooves to join our rite
O Pan! Great Pan!
With hooves of steel, brace all the rocks
Through solar solstice to equinox
And rave and rape and rip and rend
Everlasting world without end
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
Power, that which is the flower of lust
Holy and ever blessed
Mighty the thrusting power of his thigh and token erect
Thrice blessed
Soothing rod, the mystery of his love for us
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
Thundering hooves
But the rites of witchcraft go far beyond this point
They express a longing, a desperate nostalgia for the nature of the beast
Which civilized man has left behind him