hermionesviolin: image of Buffy in the desert in "Restless" with text "small girl in a big girl world" (small girl in big world [_extraflamey_])
Elizabeth (the delinquent, ecumenical) ([personal profile] hermionesviolin) wrote2005-03-20 04:05 pm

After assorted travels,

i'm back, safe and comfortable, in my Northampton abode.

Detailed report forthcoming.
I danced in the morning
When the world was begun,
And I danced in the moon
And the stars and the sun,
And I came down from heaven
And I danced on the earth
At Bethlehem I had my birth.

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.


I danced for the scribe
And the pharisee,
But they would not dance
And they wouldn't follow me,
I danced for the fishermen,
For James and John
They came with me
And the dance went on.

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.


I danced on the sabbath
And I cured the lame,
The holy people
Said it was a shame;
They whipped and they stripped
And they hung me high
And left me there
On a cross to die.

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.


I danced on a Friday
When the sky turned black
It's hard to dance
With the devil on your back,
They buried my body
And they thought I'd gone,
But I am the dance
And I still go on.

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.


They cut me down
And I leap up high
I am the life
That'll never, never die,
I'll live in you
If you'll live in me,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he.

Dance, then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the dance, said he
And I'll lead you all, wherever you may be,
And I'll lead you all in the dance, said he.


-from Christopher Bigsby's Hester [though Google informs me it wasn't original to him]
Palm Sunday and it smells like summer rain.

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