From the “Frontporch-Swing” to the “Downstairs-Fall,”
When the band started jazzing that song of repose
Of “Just Kiss Me, Doc, and Burn All My Clothes,”
They would clinch and grapple in vise-like embrace,
And he’d plant his “map” up the side of her face.
With his right “lunch-hook” her waist he’d entwine,
You’d almost think he was massaging her spine.
And thus clamped together they would trot and trip
And shake all the movements of the “Slovenly-Slip,”
The “Kitchen-Sink” and the “Box-Car-Bump,”