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Dancing Shoes


Sally Thomas walked out

Of the factory, for the last time,

In a mood so bloody foul,

She sparked and swore

Shouting curses to the sky

At the mediocrity,

The pure bloody dullness

Of the cobbling folk.


Shouting Curses in a thunderstorm,

She called to Spirits of old,

For Sally, she had witches blood

Although she didn’t know.


In her rage came

Words she swore

She’d never heard before

Some ancient curse

Passed down in blood

She was a witch’s witch’s daughter,

Though it was hidden in the past.

She never knew, what would come,

In that old factory,

Witches words carry power

Those folk soon

Found, to misfortune.


It started on the factory line,

With a tapping on the belt,

A shake and a vibration,

To a rhythm all things felt,

It caught everybody there

It caught the shoes too,

Infectious and delirious

To dance along to.


In the night, the footless shoes

Jumped up,

And on the factory floor,

Began to dance a merry jig,

Thumping, to a self-made beat.


The old and the discarded,

The almost and the new,

Played merry havoc on the floor,

As the machines lurched in tune.

Next day no man could get near,

Without losing both his shoes,

for they’d take him

With them to the dance,

Then throw him to the floor

When he couldn’t keep up

And let him scramble away

Before they carried on the tune.


That week no one in town

Could understand

They all were left barefoot.

All the Shoes had upped and gone,

Look as though they may,

They could not find a single one,

Not even understairs

Nothing with a sole was left,

Their shoes had all gone rogue

They had danced away in the night

To the grand old factory dance,

So now the people were all bootless

Walking In the morning light.


So now the factory’s had to close,

The cobblers ran away,

The shoe trade’s dead in Pedley,

Every man goes barefoot now.

Sally Thom, she’s laughing,

Her Dancing Curse still strong,

Now Pedley is a dancing town,

So once a year at least,

The men climb back into their shoes

And dance a merry jig.



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