We all have sweethearts in our square,
And when the winter comes again,
We shall go to the dancing-class
And watch them walking through the rain.
EACH week on Friday night at six
Our dancing-class begins:
Two ladies dressed in white appear
And play two violins.
It's really meant for boys at school,
But girls can also come,
And when you walk inside the room
You hear a pleasant hum.
The older boys wear Eton suits,
The younger boys white tops;
We stand together in a row
And practise curious hops.
The dancing-master shows the step
With many a puff and grunt;
He has a red silk handkerchief
Stuck grandly in his front.
He's awfully excitable,
His wrists are very strong,
He drags you up and down the room
Whenever you go wrong.
And when you're going very wrong,
The girls begin to laugh;
And when you're pushed back in your place,
The boys turn round and chaff.