They danced in circles spinning round,
And moved so fast they seemed to fly,
Their feet could hardly touch the ground.
As folk collapsed I thought they’d die;
But others kept on whirling by.
I thought they’d dance throughout the night,
Their faces painted, dressed in white.
The chants and cries could wake the dead.
A whir of people - what a sight !
And then they stopped. ‘I flew,’ one said.
Jack Horne for Nette’s Let’s Dance contest