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And even if you kill me now, it is I who will live again, not your damned apples. Sleep Close and fast No matter what you do, you can’t change the fact that I believe in the life eternal, as promised to us by our lord, Jesus Christ. I believe in the life eternal as promised to us by our lord, Jesus Christ. That is good. For believing what you do, we confer upon you a rare gift these days a martyr’s death. You will not only have life eternal, but you will sit with the saints among the elect. Come. It is time to keep your appointment with The Wicker Man. Now, wait! Now, all of you, just wait and listen to me. And you can wrap it up any way you like. You are about to commit murder. Can you not see? There is no Sun god. There is no goddess of the fields. Your crops failed because your strains failed. Fruit is not meant to be grown on these islands. It’s against nature. Don’t you see that killing me is not going to bring back your apples? Summerisle, you know it won’t. Go on, man. Tell them. Tell them it won’t. I know it will. Well, don’t you understand that if your crops fail this year, next year you’re going to have to have another blood sacrifice? And next year, no one less than the king of Summerisle himself will do. If the crops fail, Summerisle, next year your people will kill you on May Day. They will not fail. The sacrifice of the willing king, like virgin fool, will be accepted. But don’t you see I’ll be missed? They’ll come looking for me. There will be no traces. Bring him up, Oak. Go on. No! Think! Just think what you’re doing! Think what you’re doing! Think! In the name of God, think what you’re doing! Oh, God! Oh, Jesus Christ! Oh, my God! Christ! No, no, dear God! No, Christ! No, no! Mighty god of the Sun, bountiful goddess of our orchards, accept our sacrifice and make our blossoms fruit. Mighty god of the Sun, bountiful goddess of our orchards Hear ye the words of the lord! accept our sacrifice and make our blossoms fruit. Awake, ye heathens, and hold! It is the Lord who hath laid waste your orchards! It is he who hath made them bare! Reverence the sacrifice. because the truth is withered away from the sons of men. Desire shall fail and ye shall all die accursed! Summer is a-comin’ in Loudly sing cuckoo Grows the seed and blows the mead And springs the wood anew Sing cuckoo Ewe bleats harshly after lamb Cows after calves make moo The lord’s my shepherd I’ll not want He takes me down to lie in pastures Oh, God. Grows the seed and blows the mead And springs the wood anew Sing cuckoo Oh, God. I humbly entreat you for the soul of this, thy servant, Neil Howie who will today depart from this world. Do not deliver me into the enemy’s hands or put me out of mind forever. Let me not undergo the real pains of hell, dear God, because I die unshriven Cuckoo, cuckoo and establish me in that bliss which knows no ending, Cuckoo through Christ, our lord. Grows the seed and blows the mead Failure! Failure! Failure! Sing cuckoo Ewe bleats harshly after lamb Cows after calves make moo Bullock stamps and deer champs Now shrilly sing cuckoo Cuckoo,