Folklore Friday: Cocktail party

Rosemary and a ritual

"O, where are you going?" "To Scarborough fair,"
    [Parsley], sage, rosemary, and thyme;
"Remember me to a lass who lives there,
    For once she was a true love of mine.”

~from “Scarborough Faire”, a ballad or song that dates back to early-mid 17th century England.

Welcome to the third of four posts about the folklore of the herbs featured in this song. You can read the ones about parsley and sage, if you haven’t already.

Photo by Luca Volpe on Unsplash

There is so much folklore surrounding rosemary that it was hard to choose one feature or tale, but my love of threes won out this time. There is a ritual for prophetic dreams associated with this herb that must be performed on St. Magdalene’s Eve–July 21st–so the timing works pretty well, too, I thought.

It involves three maidens and a cocktail. No, really. Sort of. Three young women must mix wine, vinegar, rum, and gin, then dip a sprig of rosemary in the blend and pin it to their dresses in order to have prophetic dreams that night. I thought it sounded like a chance for shenanigans and wondered if the ritual was ever an excuse for young women to let their hair down. Read more about it here.

And now, on to the poem…

Eve of Dreams

An owl speaks in the nearby cemetery,

making us laugh,

giddy in the dark.

The three of us are relieved

to do this at Agnes’ house,

for we each have our reasons

for secrecy

and the night thrums with

nerves and the taste of wine–

Mary brought more than we needed.

We dip our rosemary in the mixture

and pin it to our skirts,

deciding to keep up with

the ritual, even if an extra dram

isn’t part of it.

Sometimes rituals can surprise you.

At least, that’s how

I feel.

By the time we stumble upstairs to sleep,

to dream of the future,

we smother our giggles and fall

onto Agnes’s bed,

grateful hers is the biggest.

Agnes says she hopes she dreams

of her future husband,

but she smiles at Mary and I,

seeing our entwined hands,

and rolls over to sleep,

leaving Mary and I to dream

in whispers.

©Stephanie Ascough