Ghostly music filled the valleys,
Strains of gypsy fiddlers, play.
Girls in whirling, swirling dresses,
Caught in the dance, and the,
---- flickering array.

Down the lane came blackened miners,
From dirt and grime, and coal seams
deep.
Pick and shovel were their partners,
Home a hovel, widows weep.

Marching forward, singers, voices.
Girls in arms to their delight.
Round and round the ribboned
maypole.
Down the lane, and out of sight.