Is it not true, that like the first cricketer, the first Morris dancer emerged steaming from the Wealdon clay, muttering (probably about the state of the pot holes as some things never change) and jangling.
So back before time was recorded in our Realm, the Morris Dancers emerged and began to spread out, converting new disciples to the call of the bells, so that eventually all of England was within earshot, although the seas meant that our neighbours remained in silence, as everybody knows that salt corrodes your clanger, and so is an effective preventative to groups of Morris dancers.
Small groups set out to display their prowess and the size of their bells, and those that survived the rigours of the road (like bad beer) passed on their secrets to the locals.
Over the generations these dancing groups got soft and settled down in places like the Cotswolds, and took advantage of their domestic situation to be able to wear white clothing and wave their handkerchiefs about in public.
Not all places succumbed to the call of the washing dolly, and you can still catch sight of the stick clashing, tattered style whose very vigour means that a drink in the pub is a necessity.
When sighted, these groups are referred to dancing “Border” as in its bordering on the impossible to believe that anyone can dance like that.
We are still trying to prove it can be done -occasionally!