The "Mowing Devil" was among the first crop circle stories told in England, in the 1600s. Crop circles are a fascinating phenomenon. But there is a greater truth involved when you read Matthew 3:12!
Lyrics:
[Verse 1]
In the age of quills and inkwells,
Tales spun like a mystic spell,
Men pondered heavens, critiqued hells,
As Providence's hand silently tells.
If devils dance in infernal deeps,
Then heaven's gates surely keep,
For every soul, a reckoning sleeps,
In the shadow where darkness creeps.
[Verse 2]
In Hartfordshire, where fields spread wide,
A farmer's pride, a poor man's stride,
In discord's grip, they did confide,
Words sharp as scythes, pride as their guide.
The farmer's wrath, a bitter brew,
"Let the Devil mow, ere I deal with you!"
A careless jest, a curse undue,
Unleashing what mortal eyes never knew.
[Chorus]
The Mowing Devil, in the dead of night,
With fiery scythe, he took to flight,
In circles round, a spectral sight,
Harvesting fields 'neath the pale moonlight.
[Verse 3]
Flames licked the sky, a spectral dance,
Oats aflame in eerie trance,
A farmer's folly, a strange romance,
In circles cut, a devil's chance.
The farmer, humbled, stood in awe,
Nature's mystery, a silent law,
In circles cut, without a flaw,
A testament to forces raw.
[Chorus]
The Mowing Devil, in the dead of night,
With fiery scythe, he took to flight,
In circles round, a spectral sight,
Harvesting fields 'neath the pale moonlight.
[Bridge]
In every jest, a truth unfolds,
In every story, myths enfold.
In every crop, a tale untold,
In every harvest, divine gold,
So heed the lesson, as it's told,
In every tale, truth may hold,
For in the mystery, we behold,
The Mowing Savior, prophesied of old.
[Chorus]
The Mowing Savior, in the dead of night,
With fiery scythe, he'll take to flight,
In circles round, a judgment sight,
Harvesting fields in the melting light.
[Outro 2]
Winnowing fork in hand,
His threshing floor manned,
Wheat gathered, in sheaves they stand,
Chaff burned in eternal flames fanned.
15 сен 2024
