to the scarborough buskers *

You fiddle dancers, happy chancers,
Tune your way into my dreams!
Uproarious sound bombards my senses,
Unraveling my tight-stitched seams.

And I was just a passerby, and
Smooth the day dressed as the night
Deceiving me with sticks and strings;
Street-corner wings in sudden flight.

What could I see on the street that day,
Feet tapping to cement and clay?
What could I fear in merry chimes
That moved your whiskey blood to climb?

You bellow with Brittanic sea
And flooding southern melody,
Distract me from a day gone wrong,
Envelope me in zydefolk song.