There the house that the dancers had come in was moored,
Where the tale of its marvelous venture still lured
The thousands long after the flood had declined,
Till piece-meal from vandals and weather combined,
It fell to decay, or was carried away.
’Twas a favorite pastime on any fine day
For the thoughtless to waltz through the house with a song
And leaving to carry a relic along,
Until nothing was left of the house that withstood
The perils that came with the eighty-four flood.