Dancing At Whitsun

It's fifty long springtimes 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 will allow

Through groves of white blossoms by fields of young corn

Where once she was pledged to her true love

The fields they stand empty the hedges grow free

No young men to turn them nor pastures to see

They’ve gone where the forests of oak trees before

All given their lives have been battle

Down from the green farmlands and from their loved ones

Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons

There's a fine roll of honor where the Maypole once stood

And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun

There's a straight row of houses in these latter days

All covering the downs where the sheep used to graze

There's a field of red roses a gift to be seen

That ladies remember at Whitsun

And ladies go dancing at Whitsun