by Trevor Jones ‘Twas the year of 67, some forty years ago Some ‘folky’ lads decided it would be fun to do a show. To entertain their very good friends, that went to their folk club At the Christmas party, at the long lost Lifeboat pub. Just how it got suggested, is now lost in the annals of time, But it’s lucky for us who are here and now that they didn’t choose pantomime. We’re told that it was fun, that they thought it just a laugh But what it was they were starting, well they didn’t know the half! Morris Dancing, that’s what they thought to do Just a couple of dances, well that should see them through Keep it very simple, don’t want to overdo it Provided that things ran to time, ten minutes ought to do it. The Grimsby Evening Telegraph reported the event And even a photographer, to the club was sent. The hankies they did flutter and the Morris Bells did ring And it dawned on these nice likely lads, that they liked the Morris thing. We’re told the ‘folkies’ liked it, and loud applause was heard that night To see six grown men dancing, such a wondrous scary sight. So that is how this team began, in that year so long ago Not knowing they had sewed a seed that would soon begin to grow However they were not the first, for some 200 years or more before, There were a band of Grimsby Morris Men, a fine and dandy corps. These merry men, who paved the way for the likes of us to follow, Carried on a tradition that the ‘Puritans’ thought hollow. It is written in an article, how these merry Grimsby men Had braved a blooming earthquake, turned tail and ran and then, Forsook their bells, as they believed, their God with them was mad, For they were sure, they’d go to hell, because they had been bad. And now it’s 2007, and although the dancers change There is one thing that keeps us going, though some might find it strange. The love of all things English, St. George and good real ale Remind us that we need to keep on dancing, so that the Morris can prevail.