We've learnt the polka and the waltz,
We've got the ladies' chain;
Although he says our final bows
Give him enormous pain.
The floor is very slippery,
It's difficult to walk
From one end to the other end
Unless you sort of stalk.
And when the steps have all been done,
He takes you by the arm
To choose a partner for the dance—
It makes you get quite warm.
You have to bow and look polite,
And ask with a grimace
The pleasure of the next quadrille,
And slouch into your place.
He always picks out girls you hate,
I really don't know why,
And when you look across the room
It almost makes you cry
To see the girl you would have picked
Dance with another boy
Without a single smile for you,
Determined to annoy.
Your heart beats very loud and quick,
Your breath comes very fast,
You pinch your partner in the chain—
But dances end at last.
You think you will not look at her,
You look the other way;
Yet when she beckons with her fan,
You instantly obey.
How quick the evening gallops by
And eight o'clock comes soon,
But not till you've arranged to meet
To-morrow afternoon.
