The hats that once were ivy clad

are hanging by the door

And the hobnail boots

that stamped the ground

lie muddied on the floor

The drum that sounded through the mist

lies silent and forlorn

And overcoats with sashes green

no female forms adorn

Cord trousers, shirts and waistcoats

are washed and stashed away

Red kerchiefs (neatly folded)

left for another day

Our winter tour is over....

the sun now warms the ground

And new life springs from barren fields

that once were water drowned

For when snowdrop pearls on slender stems

"Milk flower of the snow"

appear like jewels through frozen earth

it's time for us to go

But we will be back when autumn fades

and harvesting is done

We will be back to walk the lanes...

to a mournful, beating drum.

by The Brolly Man

We'll be Back!

Programme