The pole dancers of Norfolk are an interesting band
As they wander the marshes their poles in their hands.
They get wary looks from the folk in the towns,
All dressed up in tunics of olive and brown.

Their poles and their ankles noisy with bells,
Their shoes and their gloves decorated with shells,
Large beards and a penchant to take of the ale –
Likely contenders for a night in the jail.

But all that they do when they’ve had a few drinks,
And before they collapse for a long forty winks,
Is skip up and down to the sound of a drum,
And a flute and a squeeze box played by a chum.

They go this way and that whilst clashing their poles,
With occasional scoffing of crisps and cheese rolls,
The bells tinny noise accomp’nies the dance
As they gallop and trot, and gallantly prance.

They re-enact in their mimes, using the pikes,
The skills of traversing the many deep dykes
That criss cross the Fens to keep it well drained;
History for folk, simply shown and explained.

Why do they do this? It seems very strange
These peculiar people appear quite deranged,
They are doing no harm when they make their poles ‘whack’
It’s enough to be doing it just for the craic ………… I suppose.


(Avid Readers please note: not all of the above should be taken to be a faithful exposition of Morris Dancing. Or indeed, any of it. Lo,TG Ed)