Re: rockery/rock garden

 
i must say, that all sounds much more appealing than what they usually mean
by a rockery, eh ;-) (except the bleeding heart of jesus, maybe - i think
that would disrupt my contemplation something severe.)

we used to live near an (ex?)convent with a grotto like that, & a lovely old
garden. it was fab, but i was always too scared to ask for a look round of
course.

my grandma (oddly, she's from the methodist side of the family) had a saint
teresa with eyes that would follow you all around the room. mon dieu!! it
was horrible. but let's not get started on the perils of catholicism <g>
kylie

 0tterbot wrote:

LOL! Yes there is some really creepy iconography in the RC tradition.
There's nothing new under the sun though.  Most if not all of the
Christian myths and rituals come from Pagan traditions.  The idea of the
dying god for instance.  Have you ever heard the folk song "John
Barelycorn (must die)"?


There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on'
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong:
His head weel arm'd wi pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bendin joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
They ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore.
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heav'd in John Barleycorn-
There, let him sink or swim!

They laid him upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted o'er a scorching flame
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two astones.

And they hae taen his very hero blood
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.

'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy:
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!


Remain in light.
-Max

--
I love being married.
It's so great to find that one special person
you want to annoy for the rest of your life.
--
Netscape>Mozilla Suite>Seamonkey
The proud tradition continues!
All in one internet application suit.
http://www.mozilla.org/projects/seamonkey/releases/seamonkey1.1.1