Ritual of rhymes at the doorstep
The festive Welsh tradition of the Mari Lwyd brings communities together with rhymes and wine
In the heart of Llanfallteg, West Carmarthenshire, a cosy hostelry is crowded with villagers who gather around a crackling log fire and sip mulled wine to a background of carol singing. A Christmas tree, grown in the rolling countryside of this part of south-west Wales, takes pride of place, surrounded by festive decorations and homely red upholstery. As the merriment increases, a hammering on the door of the Plash Inn heralds a Welsh tradition that had almost died out 200 years ago, but is now enjoying a revival: the arrival of the Mari Lwyd. The Mari is a horse’s skull mounted on a wooden pole and adorned with a white sheet to which ribbons and bells are attached. John Tose, of dancing group, Heb Enw Morris, or No Name Morris, leads the way into the inn playing Welsh bagpipes, which are smaller and quieter than their Scottish counterpart, and begins the singing. Believed to date back to pre-Christian ceremonies, the Mari Lwyd is possibly connected to Mummers’ plays. Standard characters were the horse, played by the person carrying the Mari; an ostler to look after the horse; a sergeant who made sure everyone behaved; a fiddler; and Pwnsh and Siwan: Punch and Judy. The parts would have traditionally been played by men.
Rhyming contest
Originally, individual village groups, headed by the horse figure, walked from house to house, stopping at each to sing in an attempt to gain admittance. A battle of wits or rhymes followed in a poetic contest known as a pwynco. The Mari Lwyd group would begin by singing a stanza explaining who they were and assuring householders that they did not mean any harm. The occupants of the property would respond in a sung verse, and this continued until one group ran out of verses. If those inside a house found themselves unable to respond to the Mari, they were obliged to invite the group in and offer them food and drink. Should the Mari group be the first to run out of songs, they would have to move on to the next property. “Most people know of Mari Lwyd as a thing that happened in the past, but they usually react with a lot of pleasure and enthusiasm,” says John. His theory regarding the background to the name of this annual event suggests three possible translations. “Lwyd usually means grey,” he explains. “Although Mari is Welsh for Mary, it could be a corruption of mare, so Mari Lwyd might translate as grey mare, or grey Mary. To complicate things, in the Welsh Bible, Lwyd also means Holy, so perhaps Mari Lwyd is Holy Mary.” In contrast to the custom’s traditional five male protagonists, John’s Mari Lwyd is a family affair which includes his wife and daughters and was borne out of their fondness for singing as a family. John is English, but sings in Welsh. On entry to the pub, the group normally sing the customary Can y Fari song, followed by a couple of traditional Plygain carols in three-part harmony. They finish with The King, a traditional Pembrokeshire new year carol, sung in English.
Horse’s head
Groups who were unable to source a real skull for the Mari resorted to a wooden replacement, but the one used by the Heb Enw Morris group was acquired from a slaughterhouse 25 years ago. Their Mari’s construction includes a pole inserted through a hole drilled in the bottom of the skull, held in place by a screw at the top. The bottom jaw is wired at the hinge. John set an aluminium tube across the jaw ahead of the pole and built a trigger mechanism which pulls this to snap the jaw shut. A sheet is draped over the back of the skull and fixed to the bottom jaw. John’s wife, Sheila, is covered by the sheet, and she operates the Mari, holding the pole to which the skull is attached. A triangle of transparent material in the front of the sheet enables her to see where she is going so that the Mari can move about independently.
“One thing that was traditional, but which we don’t do, is to add leather ears and bottoms of bottles for eyes,” says John. Although the Mari is essentially a puppet, it can be quite intimidating. “The pole that the skull is attached to is quite short, so you can bend down and have the Mari interact with people. But we don’t want to scare them. We’ve chosen to keep our skull bare so that it looks like a skull. The movement of the head differs from group to group. Some do serious puppet work which involves a lot of movement.”
A custom revived
The first written evidence of Mari Lwyd dates to the 1840s. A Methodist preacher, the Reverend William Roberts, whose Bardic name, Nefydd, suggests he wrote poetry, condemned Paganism and the drunkenness and vandalism which he said accompanied Mari Lwyd parties. He committed details to paper with the intention of ensuring young men avoided the practice. Ironically, his recorded information enabled future groups to revive this annual event, which was predominantly popular in South Wales. Another regular venue for the Morris group is Tafarn Sinc in Rosebush. This tavern, made from corrugated iron, as was common during the 1870s, was bought by the community last year. “The pub is the hub of the village,” explains chairman, Hefin Wyn. “There’s sawdust on the floor and agricultural paraphernalia all around. Logs for our two fires, along with food, are sourced locally. We look forward to the Mari coming in and traipsing around. People come from afar to witness the old tradition: they are quite mesmerised.” Christie Goymer, landlord at the Plash, is similarly enthusiastic. “In 1891, our cosy pub was a home and became a public house where a Mrs Evans, the occupant at the time, opened her front door to serve beer from jugs. The Mari Lwyd has been performed annually for the 14 years since we’ve been here. We explain the format and what it’s about. We believe it’s important to keep traditions going.”
The Folk Dance Company of Cardiff, Cwmni Dawns Werin Caerdydd (CDWC), started its Mari Lwyd in 1970. It visits four pubs in Llandaff in South Glamorgan, where their verses, and public responses, are sung in Welsh. “Mari Lwyd had almost died out, but the group decided to revive an old custom that was very much an indigenous tradition in Welsh valleys among mining towns,” explains Dai James. “We are the only team which has all the characters: Punch and Judy types wearing multicoloured smocks and hats with bells; an ostler who carries the horse’s reins and wears a jacket, breeches and hose, and maybe a top hat; and a sergeant who keeps everyone under control and dresses as a policeman or perhaps in an RAF uniform, depending on who provides the costume.”
Home visits
To begin with, the group followed the tradition of visiting local houses. Dai recalls one year when, in costume, their group walked along a farm path, backlit by a full moon. A howling wind billowed the Mari’s cover, which unfortunately caused children in the house to begin to scream. This was somewhat reminiscent of the tradition’s early days, when the first glimpse householders had of the Mari Lwyd would have been a skull peering through the window. Historically, the Mari Lwyd could take place any evening from just before Christmas until twelfth night, explains fellow CDWC member, Rhodri Jones. It usually starts at approximately 6pm and often continues until midnight, depending upon the amount of time spent singing and the consumption of alcohol. “Whoever is underneath the cloth holds a torch to shine through the eyes. It’s very basic, but that person determines the character of the horse,” he says.
Good luck
Despite most onlookers welcoming the spectacle, Rhodri agrees that some people can find the skull unnerving initially. “But the Mari also brings good luck for the new year,” he says. “There is an underlying feeling that this is a tradition that we need to keep going. Since the 1990s, other groups have adopted the Mari Lwyd. It’s an excuse for entertainment and is harmless enough. It’s very informal. Given the growing popularity of this ancient spectacle, its revival is equally as important to those taking part as Mari Lwyd’s audiences, as John Tose sums up. “Traditions are very important, otherwise the whole world just ends up being the same. And keeping a tradition like this alive is something that also binds us together as a community.”
“Lay on her a cloth of silver sheen, Bring me a robe of white; Wherever we go we must be seen By the shining of our light” George MacDonald, ‘The Three Horses’