We enjoyed an afternoon of morris dancing on Topsham Quay for Devon Folk Day. Dancer, Mary F conjures up a vivid representation of our experience in her latest poem…

To Topsham we did go, where the cold wind did blow; and blow and blow (anon).

An early chance for us this year,

to have a Morris out,

on the eve the clocks sprung forward,

we did meet to leap about.

We danced for Devon Folk Day,

where river mixes with the sea,

and gathered with two other sides,

at Topsham quay for 3:00[pm].

This lovely spot, with channel wide,

had only one thing wrong,

unprotected from the coast as was,

the blasting wind was REALLY strong.

With us were dancing ‘Exeter’,

the oldest Devon side,

adorning toggles on waistcoats of green;

and hats with ribbons tied.

The other lot, called ‘Dartington’

wore white, with baldricks red,

while we wore black; contrastingly.

Each by an able squire were led.

We danced a few from Illmington,

one formed a ring of waivers high,

that be ‘Lily’; in the valley Exe,

backed by its water, hills and sky.

Though windy, this location was,

an audience did stay,

and watch our minstrels wandering,

as we did a classic mirror hey.

Since not co-incidentally,

we were positioned near a pub,

with its fayre of many liquids,

and presumably some grub!

Said audience did us motivate,

to ensure our lines were tighter,

than in practice they had sometimes been,

and our feet be all (in) the lighter (inn).

Did I mention it was windy?

the kind that chills you to the bone,

it toppled the trolleyed stick bag;

it blew as constant as a drone.

So, when we could we bundled on,

any clothing we had brought,

then huddled up for extra warmth;

one even further shelter sought.

Though her spot became quite suddenly,

the ‘stage’ where the shanty crew did sing,

so, Christine got hemmed in for their set,

though cold, that made us warmly grin.

After a shanty song about,

some awful work at sea,

their roped up, 6ft, wooden prop,

was recommissioned; gleefully.

As our next dance just so happened,

to be[come] ‘Bacca pipes’ you see,

wherein aforementioned capstan did,

replace Jenny’s pipes; quite spiritedly!

The last dance was for joining in,

a jig; with us ‘Glories’ as the guides,

and in the midst of this, a blended throng,

the wind seemed strangely pacified.

Recalling: 29th March 2025.