T’was the night of Winter Solstice
snow was falling down
A shepherd and his flock would never
Make it back to town
They’d spend the night bedded down
Upon a windblown hill
Haunted by some standing stones
Which watched over the chill
The shepherd pulled his coat round tight
And gathered close the flock
Settled down in drifting snow,
His back against a rock
He prayed that he’d not die that night
On such unhallowed ground
Then from deep within the stone
He heard a soft voice sound
You may call me Anthracyda,
I’m the god of Andra’s Hill
My children are long gone now,
yet I abide here still
A simple farming village
I watched o’er best I could
They thanked me for the harvest,
danced in my sacred wood
I’ll still watch over my hillside,
Try to help the ones in pain
I will warm my stones for you,
so your prayers are not in vain
When they awoke next morning,
continuing their way
They found the snow had melted
everywhere they lay
You may call me Anthracyda,
I’m the god of Andra’s Hill
My children are long gone now,
Yet I abide here still
Christian people hear me,
See the tears of Christ the Son
Two commands he gave to you
Love your god and everyone
You may call me Anthracyda,
I’m the god of Andra’s Hill