In those days the piper played the music of streams:
fast flowing runs, sprays that erupted in feet,
blood hitting high C, wheeling dancers dizzy with life.
And so he played until the official stance on joyfulness shifted.
That day on Brewel Hill the dancers, kicking up their feet,
angered the gods, who had decreed that music-making was subversive;
and for godliness, jollity was transfigured to stone.