Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
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What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
What! pressed in the dance by another's man's knee?
What! panting recline on another than me?
Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape its fine blue,
From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous dew;
What you've touched you may take. Pretty waltzer--adieu!

And the dancing has begun now,
And the dancers whirl round gaily
In the waltz's giddy mazes,
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And the dancing has begun now,
And the dancers whirl round gaily
In the waltz's giddy mazes,
And the ground beneath them trembles.

Such pains, such pleasures now alike are o'er,
And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist no more
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Such pains, such pleasures now alike are o'er,
And beaus and etiquette shall soon exist no more
At their speed behold advancing
Modern men and women dancing;
Step and dress alike express
Above, below from heel to toe,
Male and female awkwardness.
Without a hoop, without a ruffle,
One eternal jig and shuffle,
Where's the air and where's the gait?
Where's the feather in the hat?
Where the frizzed toupee? and where
Oh! where's the powder for the hair?

Others import yet nobler arts from France,
Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.

Others import yet nobler arts from France,
Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.

Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad

Those who hear not the music think the dancers mad

Twelve dancers are dancing, and taking no rest,
And closely their hands together are press'd;
And soon read more

Twelve dancers are dancing, and taking no rest,
And closely their hands together are press'd;
And soon as a dance has come to a close,
Another begins, and each merrily goes.

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
And the read more

Alike all ages: dames of ancient days
Have led their children through the mirthful maze,
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,
Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.

Dancing is silent poetry.

Dancing is silent poetry.