Classic Poem

On ev'ry Friday afternoon my ma makes it a rule
To dress me up and send me off to this old dancing school,
Where ev'ry girl I ever knew, and some I do n't, get's smart
And giggles when I try to waltz, or learn the steps by heart.
I wish the folks that like it so
Would come and dance — and let me go!

I never asked to come up here; I hate it, yes, siree!
And what 's the good of doing it, no one can make me see;
It's well enough for sissy boys and little girls, I guess
That like to laugh and talk a lot, and comb their hair and dress,
But boys as big as I am, know
There 's heaps more fun in playing " show. "

Most ev'ry girl that I " invite " knows that I 'spise to dance;
I step upon their feet and knock their knees, they say, and — PRANCE;
And when I make my bow to them, sometimes I slip and fall,
And then the whole room laughs at me, but I do n't care at all.
Some day the teacher 'll put me out
And when she does, O, won't I shout!

There ain't a boy goes to this school that I can't lick, I know,
For all they think of is their steps, and how to two-step slow.
And then — and then, the only girl that does n't laugh at me
Can't come at all, although she's just as nice as she can be.
She 's lame for life, I heard ma say —
But she's the NICEST, anyway!