The Last day of May (April 1984)

I was dreaming this night of mine, I dreampt a dream all out of time
About a maiden at a fayre, about some flowers that grew in her hair

This dream was so strange so full of memories, of recalling past times when fancy free
We skipped over the grass and down to the sea with the birds who had alighted
In the fields at the time

When I awoke I felt so strange, so mighty queer, that there I lay
In bed for a while and studied the world out the window

Stunned as I was at the start of a new day, awakened from dreams that quickly decayed
And left me a feeling of a time and a place far removed from here

It was this day I do recall that folks were to gather around the hall
Singing praises to unite them all and spend the day in festive array
And celebrate, dance and music play till the night came around

And so it was that afternoon, you could just see the crescent moon
It was the last day before June, people had gathered by the church
At the cross where you can see down to the sea

On the Last Day of May
On the Last Day of May
We are just here I can't tell you why my friend
But I know it's for some reason
Some reason to be told

Practising his pipes stood by the door, the curious minstrel held me in awe
The way that he looked, the way that I saw
The way that he looked at me was not at all threatening

He took off his cloak and showed me inside, as I went further in the old minstrel cried
Making noises to me- wait behind that tree till the thunder loudly goes by

Soon after that I saw the church cat, purring and preening, licking and cleaning
Itself behind the vast rows of flowers that were to be put in the nave

What a great tortoise shell, that much I could tell, but before too long
I could hear the bell, the bell, the knell, all things are now well
It's two a clock, the fayre is just starting

Cartloads and carloads of folks pouring in I spied from my hide-out behind the inn
There were people were fat there were people were thin, people with double or triple chins
People with cameras around their necks, people carrying lengths of flex
People rushing to buy things

Oh the Last Day of May...

The vicar and the lady from the Donkey Sanctuary
Stood outside the teashop watching thoughtfully
He was wishing there had been more crysanthemums
She was nursing a bleeding cut on her thumb
"We can organise it better this year"
Was the first thing he had said
At the Salcombe Regis Fayre AGM
Back in early Feb'
"We ought to have some donkey rides
More things for the kids
A herb stall, a rat-catcher
Something like Beer town did"

There was an organ which exuded a tune wound up and not played by a long bearded loon
Who persuaded everyone to come around and around, shouting, arms waving, beads touching the ground
In time to the music

There was a wry looking man at a coconut shy his face was contorted, I didn't know why
But he was staring at a boy in his teens wiping ice-cream off his new Levi jeans
Licking what was left off his fingers

Practising flipping coins around his hat, a proud looking young man made a stand
Accused of stealing a cake from a stall, of tearing up flowers and that was not all
His mother accused him of smoking

Looking alone but still very pretty, wanders the girl who had been sitting
By the church, then by the sign, in fact all places about the town
Looking from behind here tinted glasses
Thinking was it true what her sister says about that boy

Then I kissed you down on the grass verge and reality took a lurch
The mist that had been lingering around suddenly got thicker and close to the ground
You could not see, only sound carried meaning

The whole country fayre just suddenly stopped, how had this mist so suddenly dropped?
What arm is it that has chosen to bat this ball into such a strange court?

People did not know what to do, whether to stay or whether to go
Whether they were even in town today and so, indecisive, the minutes ticked by
Not even one sound not even a cry was heard from anyone

It was then I saw the strangest sight, it really gave me quite a fright
Until I saw, in front of them all, strode the minstrel with his pipes

Out of the far past came twenty men, Celtic by nature I guessed at their kin
By the shade of their eye by the tone of their skin
On this odd stage they just wandered in and looked at everyone through the mist

Aw, not so by chance by by mystic device, I was held like wood in a vice
I would have spoke but the words but words would not come
Until this strange apparition had been and done
What it was here for

The minstrel was alone, his boots and his bones eyeing all the folks there to see
He took out his pipe and played a note of some height
And like a crack returns normality

Alright alright I know it's weird but I can handle this
What you continued with your piping I started with a kiss
"Look down at your neck, see what is there"
Was what the minstrel said. And looking down I saw I wore
A strange celtic cross that I had not seen before

On the Last day of May...

If you should go down to Salcombe Regis Fayre beware, beware. Be aware
There's dreams and things floating in the air, and I don't know if you'd really care
For it at all, for it at all, for it had all ended soon

Oh the Last day of May
Oh the Last day of May
We are just here, I can't tell you why my friends
But I know it's for some reason
Some reason to be told