There is truth but not in human terms

The Mayday dances were at Whitsuntide
When round the maypole young folk liked to dance
This holiday is for the workers kind

At Whit, God’s spirit  came to his abode
Six weeks after Easter, not by chance
The Mayday dances were at Whitsuntide

There is no truth for a  post-modern mind
But words cannot convey a woman’s glance
This holiday is for  steel workers kind

There may be truth  and humans may be blind
A truth may be revealed by happenstance
The Mayday dances were at Whitsuntide

There is truth but not in human  terms
Why was Jesus’ side pierced by a lance
This holiday was for  coal miners kind

Now we live the stinging nettles  flounce
And striped tygers eye with elegance
The Mayday dances were at Whitsuntide
This holiday was for the workers’ minds