Nine circles do I round ye run,
on each a black bean. Every one
to a black beetle turneth.
Nine spiders now about you spin their arran webs,
to ward off what’s out, to guard what’s in,
should ill clouds hang aboon ye.
Nine feathers now round ye fly,
each bird doth watch baith yeth and sky,
should ought ill come again ye
From Marvels, Magic & Witchcraft in the North Riding of Yorkshire. David Kirby. 2005