The hot woden’s day

Forthwith that I,
through sorrow and pain
hath gone by on this Woden’s Day,
in the plague of the burning globe
above in the heavens

which burneth as with sulfur and brimstone;
I thus stand on my knees
with bruising knuckles and prayeth
unto any and all available dieties:

God, gods, spirits (holy and brutal),
lords spiritual, temporal,
angels, saints, mothers of gods,
forces, principalities, powers, and all,
sacred, holy and glorious that there be,

hath been and appraised to hold control,
or otherwise that possesseth the inklings
of the beginning of the wind
and its end thereof into where it goeth forth,

to bestow on me the cold
and perishing wind
and to quench I beseech,
the melting ball of flame above hence forth.

May they, I ask,
dampen the earth with spittles,
showers and gentle floods.
And prove to me that there is thee,
the ever-knowing, all-powerful and great controllers of nature.

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