Varenye lyrics

Though some say it of berries

More unusual to others about

Tis made of young fir cones

When soft and in the spring

Small and sometimes green

They have not grown hardened

A couple of centimeters long

And many, many to collect

The spiders will be unhappy

Perhaps some birdies too

That their abode is molested

Briefly disturbed in gathering

A labor of love once mandated

Foraging for medicine, for food

Now few know, fewer still do

Lose touch with natural gifts

Surely cleanse the harvest done

Gather many to last the year

With care to prepare quality crop

Mixing in from tea to yellow cake

Whatever the measure, half sugar

A pan only of stainless steel

The resins that lie within are why

Other materials will not last it

Leave the cones wet to boil so

Water added is water to be removed

Boiled away to thicken to a jam

The resins lie within it then

The cones will turn dark brown

Soft and fragile they will be

Be gentle not to break them up

A darkened syrup surrounding

Placed away in small containers

Sealed from air's putrification

That they thicken in the cool

And bless our empty spirits