Mabon - 22nd September

There were three men came out of the West
Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die.





According to the Wheel Of The Year it is Mabon, the second harvest, a festival with the enduring image of the burning of the wicker man.

This might look like an echo of human sacrifice as popularised by the film of the same name, but this isn't the case. It is the ritual cremation of the body of the corn god.
And as with many festivals, as well as being a time of ending Mabon is a time of new beginnings, of fresh starts.

This festival doesn't figure much in my calender in the traditional sense. For me it is important as acknowledging the first chilly breath of Beira and the approaching rule of the Winter Queen. I am sat this morning with my first of the seasons winter clothes, and this morning when I got out of bed I gave my first thought to the Winter crone.

I will attend my small bedroom altar and decorate it with the traditional signs of Autumn, pine cones, fallen leaves and twigs. I cannot do much tomorrow as I am away or else I would have taken a walk in the woods

Here is a link for a fuller explanation of the tradition of Mabon, rather than the individualistic style of Hillwitch:
http://crystalforest3.homestead.com/Mabon.html

They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in
Threw clods all upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John barleycorn was Dead.

In English folklore the most popular figure is John Barleycorn, a character representing the crop of barley harvested each autumn, and, as importantly, symbolizes the drink which can be made from barley, beer and whiskey. In the traditional folksong, John Barleycorn endures all kinds of indignities, most of which correspond to the cyclic nature of planting, growing, harvesting, and then death.

They let him stand for a very long time
Till the rains from heaven did fall
Then little Sir John's sprung up his head
And so amazed them all
They let him stand till the Midsummer Day
Till he grew both pale and wan
Then little Sir John's grew a great, long beard
And so become a man.

They hire'd men with scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee.
They bound him and tied him around the waist
Serving him most barb'rously.They hire'd men with their sharp pitch-forks
To prick him to the heart
But the drover served him worse than that
For he's bound him to a cart.

They rolled him around and around the field
Till they came unto a barn
And these three men made a solemn mowOf poor John Barleycorn
They hire'd men with crab-tree sticks
To strip him skin from boneBut the miller, served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.

Here's Little sir John in the nut-brown bowl
And brandy in the glass
But Little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl's
Proved the stronger man at last
For the hunts man he can't hunt the fox
Nor cheerily blow his horn
And the tinker, can't mend Kettle or pot
Without a little Barleycorn