THE SONG KEEPERS

For thirty years they've come
crowding the streets and singing
this ancient town alive, carrying
stories in their mouths, bringing

tales weaved from love and loss
set to the music of guitars, violins
anything that gives them a voice
flutes, accordions, mandolins.

For thirty years the city yawns
awake, shrugs off suits and ties,
leaves boxed and ordered days,
to hear the call of the minstrels lives,

over the bridge that arcs the river
to Warwick School crouched below
the castle where the campsite sits,
they're dressed in jewels and rainbows.

They clap and roar out the words
as musicians drum the beat,
till they rise and dance in the afternoon
and into the soft evening heat.

For thirty years the keepers of song
have come to Warwick, with the spark
strong in their hearts, made it burn
and flare in the deepening dark.

In the years ahead they will guard
the traditions, ensure they survive,
string the notes, flood the town,
keep the spirit of folksong alive.