Sticks clash together as the bells ring

Heralding Centuries old rites of spring

Morris Men dancing in each season

Each well-rehearsed step for a reason

The fiddle player keeping with tradition

Lending the dance for all his rhythm

Denizen of all things beauteous and green

The village has chosen The May Queen

Morris Men dancing good harvest to bring

Then the fool is crowned the misrule King

The green wood, the field ripe with corn

From winter’s deathly hold, spring is reborn

Every jig performed, every “hey” and every dance

If you be lucky enough to watch them perchance

Be sure to applaud and treat them with respect

They do this for all of us, mother nature to protect

 

In market square or village green the dance goes on

Through countless generations and the dance goes on

Right across this fairest land forever the dance goes on

 

www.deanfrasercentral.com