But my feet, they dance in answer to a distant tambourine.
And, oh! the dreams of ecstasy. Oh! Babylon and Troy.
I’ve a hero in the basement, he’s the janitor’s red-haired boy.
There’s the music of his mallet and the jigging of his saw;
I wonder what he’s making on that lovely cellar floor?
He loves me, for he said it when we met upon the stair,
And that is why I’m on the roof to get a breath of air.
He said it! Oh! He said it! And the only thing I said
Was, “Roger Jones, I like you, for your hair is very red.”
We parted when intruders came a-tramping through the hall;