Greasing the Maypole
Mayday 2001
Come workers, come witches
Come socialists, come elves
Come wizards, come peasants
& break your sleepy spells
Yes! Arise ye from your covens & squats & slumbers
in unvanquishable numbers
& greet the May morn
Come communists, come shamen
High priestesses & worker priests
Come alchemists & anarchists
& join in May Day’s feast
Hecate call Emma Goldman
Vanzetti call on Pan
Woman call Woman
Man call Man
Ye Haymarket martyrs
& oak-rooted satyrs
Ye rank & file goddesses
& divine shop stewardesses
Come marry your colours & dreams
Let red and black fly from the green Maypole heights
Let riots of wild flowers spread like wildcat strikes
Yes, come all ye Wiccan-syndicalists & eco-agitators
Ye anti-fascist faeries & allotment propagators
Plant those Beltane barricades of hawthorn & yew
& in the seasoned pagan cauldron cook an anarchist stew
Come all ye soviet astrologers & pantheistic punks
Ye cannabis conspirators & anarcho-Bacchanalian drunks
Come all ye pacifist pixies and direct action druids
Celebrate your fluid bodies & all your bodily fluids
Come ye all – come and let whatever is
tight
in your ideology or psychology or pantheology
be gently loosened by the rhythms of the earth
for a pleasure to one is a pleasure to all
Yes! Down with the bosses & up with the sun
Phone in amazing & clock in for fun
“If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution,” the fiery Emma said
& the cleverest cops are often those ones patrolling inside our heads
So raise your embroidered banners & drop your underwear
& show your arses to the ruling classes & have no care
for tomorrow
for Mother Earth will carry you
& knows a thing or seven about revolutions
Yeah, come workers & come witches
Come revolutionaries, come elves
Come anti-warlocks and anti-warriors
& snap out of your sleepy spells
Oh, arise ye from your covens & squats & permaculture plots
in unvanquishable
& deliciously banquetable numbers
& greet the fair, sweet, budding and horny May morn
Mayday 2001
Come workers, come witches
Come socialists, come elves
Come wizards, come peasants
& break your sleepy spells
Yes! Arise ye from your covens & squats & slumbers
in unvanquishable numbers
& greet the May morn
Come communists, come shamen
High priestesses & worker priests
Come alchemists & anarchists
& join in May Day’s feast
Hecate call Emma Goldman
Vanzetti call on Pan
Woman call Woman
Man call Man
Ye Haymarket martyrs
& oak-rooted satyrs
Ye rank & file goddesses
& divine shop stewardesses
Come marry your colours & dreams
Let red and black fly from the green Maypole heights
Let riots of wild flowers spread like wildcat strikes
Yes, come all ye Wiccan-syndicalists & eco-agitators
Ye anti-fascist faeries & allotment propagators
Plant those Beltane barricades of hawthorn & yew
& in the seasoned pagan cauldron cook an anarchist stew
Come all ye soviet astrologers & pantheistic punks
Ye cannabis conspirators & anarcho-Bacchanalian drunks
Come all ye pacifist pixies and direct action druids
Celebrate your fluid bodies & all your bodily fluids
Come ye all – come and let whatever is
tight
in your ideology or psychology or pantheology
be gently loosened by the rhythms of the earth
for a pleasure to one is a pleasure to all
Yes! Down with the bosses & up with the sun
Phone in amazing & clock in for fun
“If I can’t dance, it’s not my revolution,” the fiery Emma said
& the cleverest cops are often those ones patrolling inside our heads
So raise your embroidered banners & drop your underwear
& show your arses to the ruling classes & have no care
for tomorrow
for Mother Earth will carry you
& knows a thing or seven about revolutions
Yeah, come workers & come witches
Come revolutionaries, come elves
Come anti-warlocks and anti-warriors
& snap out of your sleepy spells
Oh, arise ye from your covens & squats & permaculture plots
in unvanquishable
& deliciously banquetable numbers
& greet the fair, sweet, budding and horny May morn
