Quadrilles and Waltzes all give way,
For Jullien’s Polkas bear the sway,
The chimney sweeps, on the first of May,
Do in London dance the Polka.
If a pretty girl you chance to meet,
With sparkling eyes and rosy cheek,
She’ll say, young man we’ll have a treat,
If you can dance the Polka.
A lady who lives in this town,
Went and bought a Polka gown,
And for the same she gave five pound
All for to dance the Polka.
But going to the ball one night,
On the way she got a dreadful fright,
She tumbled down, and ruined quite,
The gown to dance the Polka.
A Frenchman he has arrived from France
To teach the English how to dance,
And fill his pocket,—“what a chance”—
By gammoning the Polka.
Professors swarm in every street,
’Tis ground on barrel organs sweet,
And every friend you chance to meet,
Asks if you dance the Polka.
Then over Fanny Ellsler came,
Brilliant with trans-Atlantic fame,
Says she I’m German by my name,
So best I know the Polka.
And the row de dow she danced,
And in short clothes and red heels pranced,
And, as she skipped, her red heels glanced
In the Bohemian Polka.
But now my song is near its close,
A secret, now, I will disclose,
Don’t tell, for it’s beneath the rose,
A humbug is the Polka.
Then heigh for humbug France or Spain,
Who brings back our old steps again,
Which John Bull will applaud amain
Just as he does the Polka.