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Peter Dawson
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The Floral Dance
As I walked home on a summer's night,
When stars in heaven were shining bright
Far away from the footlights' glare
Into the sweet and scented air
Of a quaint old Cornish town
Borne from afar on the gentle breeze
Joining the murmur of summer seas
Distant tones of an old world dance
Played by a village band perchance,
On the calm air came floating down
I thought i could hear the curious tone
Of cornet, clarinet and big trombone,
Fiddle, cello, big bass drum,
Bassoon, flute and euphonium,
Far away as in a trance
I heard the sound of the floral dance.
And soon I heard all the bustling and prancing,
And then I saw the whole village was dancing,
In and out of the houses they came,
Old folk, young folk all the same,
In that quaint old Cornish town.
Every boy took a girl by the waist
And hurried her off with tremendous haste,
Whether they knew one another I care not,
Whether they cared at all I know not,
But they kissed as they danced along.
And there was the band with the curious tone
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Of the cornet, clarinet and big trombone,
Fiddle, cello, big bass drum,
Bassoon, flute and euphonium
Each one making the most of his chance,
All together in the floral dance.
I felt so lonely standing there,
That I could only stand and stare,
For I had no maid with me,
Lonely I should have to be,
In that quaint old Cornish town.
When suddenly hastening down the lane
A figure I knew I saw quite plain
With out-stretched hands I rushed along,
And carried her into that merry throng,
And fiddle and all went dancing down.
We danced to the band with the curious tone
Of the cornet, clarinet and big trombone,
Fiddle, cello, big bass drum,
Bassoon, flute and euphonium,
Each one making the most of his chance,
All together in the floral dance.
Dancing her, dancing there,
Jigging, jogging, everywhere,
Up and down and around the town,
Hoorah! For the Cornish floral dance
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