"I'd slip, I'd slide, I'd jazz, I'd glide,
I'd fox-trot, one- and two-step,
And show with pardonable pride
My skill at every new step.
"I'd dance until my soles wore raw,
When, tired of dissipation,
I'd lie in bed whole weeks and draw
My out-of-work donation.
"And when that palled I'd rise to see
What fortunes cooks are earning,