Of course I like dancing in summer,
It’s warm but I don’t mind the heat.
The clumsy thing! Oh! how he hurt me!
I really can’t dance any more—
Let’s walk—see they’re forming a Lanciers;
These square dances are such a bore,
My cloak, oh! I really don’t need it,
Well carry it—so, in the folds,
I hate it, but Ma made me bring it,
She’s frightened to death about colds.