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An Awakening: Whitsun Dance
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It's fifty-one spring-times since she was a bride But still you may see her at each Whitsuntide In a dress of white linen and ribbons of green As green as her memories of loving The feet that were nimble tread carefully now As gentle a measure as age do allow Through groves of white blossom, by fields of young corn Where once she was pledged to her true love The fields they are empty, thе hedges grow free No young men to tеnd them, or pastures go see They've gone where the forests of oak trees before Had gone to be wasted in battle Down from their green farmlands and from their loved ones Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons There's a fine roll of honour where the Maypole once was And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun There's a row of straight houses in these latter days Are covering the Downs where the sheep used to graze There's a field of red poppies, a wreath from the Queen But the ladies remember at Whitsun And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun
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