Happy Twelfth Night

Haxey

Out riding upon yonder hill,
Twelfth night in the marshland.
A Lady's hood caught in a gale,
Was chased down by a farmhand.

This land is yours for acting like a lord.

Willow wands and velvet caps,
Wet grass makes the fire burn unclear.
Scarlet coats with tattered paper backs,
House against house every year.

Standing on the stone, calling through the smoke.

Through the fields and through the streets, sway hood,
Knock down every man you meet, sway hood,
Over knees and elbows, sway hood,
Over walls and hedgerows, sway hood.

Camouflage jacket and cropped hair,
Take a run up over trampled cars into the crush.
It's an ever-dying song growing ever quieter;
A sacrifice to the old gods.

Hood as a head for the tussle and tread.

Pushing through the hoodlands marking every year.
Pushing through the hoodlands marking every year.
Pushing through the hoodlands marking every year.
Pushing through the hoodlands.