"Would I could go back to a time when simple rustic folk danced the sun up on May morning, brought in greenery and yule logs at Christmas, sang the harvest home... but I can't. That is a romantic dream and we are divorced from the old folk ways. Fake replication without meaning is all that remains. Alas!"

If the whole thing has no meaning to you anyway, why would you want to go back in time and have 'morereal meaninglessness'?

Strange, I don't have you figured as the dancing sort, I'd invite you to Clun next year but I would think you'd be too busy chastising those dancers for being 'fakes' to enjoy it.

I hear it all now:

Green Man: "Hail, the Queen of the May"

Crowd: "Hail The Queen of the May!"

PeterH: "You're not real, you are pretending!"

May Queen: "Mine is the beauty of the green earth and the fullness thereof for I am the bringer of all fruitfulness unto thee

By the moonray’s shaft of sliver power
By the green leaf breaking from the bud,
By the seed that springeth into flower,
By the life that courses in the blood,
Invoke the power of land and tree,
And call on rain and sun.
As I do will, so let it be,
I speak the word and it is done.

PeterH (shouting now):

"What a bunch of idiots, where's the blood!? And she's not even the real May Queen! Go back to your Playstations you fakers - and I STILL haven't seen an Ibex killed by human teeth, these townies are an abominable sham. Get a move on, Candice Marie, we have to get back home by 4:46, I'm done with this parlour game."