Flowers in May
At 5am on the first of May,
I set out from the Grove in a westerly way,
And walked a track that was steep and long,
Accompanied by a black bird’s song.
The path ahead rose higher and higher,
As I reached the top I began to tire,
I turned around to take in the view,
And catch my breath was the thing to do.
Then I heard a jingling sound and muffled voices from all around,
I looked over a hedge and there on the road a group of ladies with ribbons and bows,
Flowing skirts, bells on their shoes,
Handkerchiefs gripped to amuse.
To the side stood three musicians,
Highly versed in the Morris tradition,
Two of them with melodeons in hand,
The other had a drum to bang.
The crowd of people stood in silence,
As the Sun appeared above the horizon,
We all cheered, the musicians began to play,
And the ladies danced like flowers in May.
Until next time – Glentaowen