The morris men and ladies

Here they are
Clad in their dress
Ribbons of purple
And red no less
Some have masks
Or blackened faces
And they put us through
The paces

The drum beats roll
Toe tapping stuff
They dance and their sticks
They bang

enough

Out in the frosty
Winter air
Its the morris troop
That spirit share

A pagan dance of long ago
From the Moor’s maybe
Know no one does know
For sure a lot of conjecture here
But who cares
As long as they appear

Sharing their breath
And their music too
The exhilaration
Of all things new
They bring such pleasure
From olden times
With bells on their arms and legs
And chimes

No matter the weather
Or what frosty haze
Their emotional spirit
It just plays
Into ones heart and out again
Across the fields
In every vein
Of the bodies bones and gristle too
And is so exciting in my view

Whilst many may sit by the flat screen
And
Nod off and really not understand
Too much pudding and mince pies
Others wonderful women and guys
Clad in tradition will bring their thing
Out in the frost they will prove the king
The sun is back the light is here
Our blood is flowing
And no cause to fear

We are alive our hands may be
Cold its true but our liberty
Is ours on this yuletide sojourn to
A pageant a ritual or whatever we do
Dressed up warm stout boots and scarf
And everyone having a laugh

Flat screen tellies come and go
As does the frost as does the snow
But the morris people what they do
Is provide us joy that lasts all through