Mother Holle's Well

[Verse 1]
They fall like seeds into my deep
The good, the cruel, the ones who weep
A spindle drops, a girl descends
And here is where her old life ends
I've watched ten thousand seasons turn
From this well where snowflakes learn
To shake my bed is shake the sky
But who shakes mine when I need to cry?

[Pre-Chorus]
The bread screams "take me from the flame"
The apple begs — it's always the same

[Chorus]
I am the judge beneath the ground
Where falling girls are lost and found
Gold for the kind, pitch for the vain
But who rewards the one who weighs the pain?
Mother Holle shakes the bed
And winter falls from what she's shed

[Verse 2]
The good girl came with bleeding hands
And did each thing that I demand
She pulled the bread, she picked the tree
She shook my feathers willingly
I drenched her gold from crown to toe
And sent her back to those above to glow
They cheered and praised her gleaming skin
Then sent her sister tumbling in

[Pre-Chorus]
The lazy one won't lift the bread
I've known her answer before it's said

[Chorus]
I am the judge beneath the ground
Where falling girls are lost and found
Gold for the kind, pitch for the vain
But who rewards the one who weighs the pain?
Mother Holle shakes the bed
And winter falls from what she's shed

[Bridge]
Centuries down here alone
Featherbed and well of stone
They think me wise, they think me fair
But I am rotting in this chair
I never chose to be the scale
That tips the world to gold or pale
Someone dropped me down here too
And I've forgotten who I knew

[Verse 3]
Tonight the snow falls thick and slow
But I won't shake it — let it grow
Let the world above go still
Bury every field and hill
If no one comes to judge the judge
Then let the winter never budge
I'll hold the feathers to my chest
And finally, finally find my rest

[Final Chorus]
I was the judge beneath the ground
Where falling girls were lost and found
No gold for me, no pitch, no rain
Just endless weighing of their pain
Mother Holle folds the bed
And lets the silence fall instead

[Outro]
Somewhere above the snow piles high
No one remembers how to cry
The well is sealed, the spindle rust
And Mother Holle turns to dust
But in the feathers, soft and deep
Something ancient falls asleep