With hop, with glide, and prance;
And still, as she sleepily gazed on that throng,
She muttered the "Song of the Dance."
Dance, dance, dance,
Till I hear the milkman's cry;
Dance, dance, dance,
Till the sun is seen on high.
It's O to be a nigger,
Nor mind to clothless feel,
If civilised folk will try how little