If you could dance with the Devil
which rhythm would you choose?
Would you sell your soul for dancing shoes?
You fought to fondle,
Not knowing whether
some wise old woman would count the measure,
And teach you steps even striplings knew;
Once discovered by a mother,
Spying fellow with female
polishing the other.
Dunny dance with the devil,
Come wrestle Her down,
And for one musical moment
forget Holy with your crown.
“Don’t you fight,”
I should have told you when
tong tapered the nose of one red-faced gentleman.
Mama had helped to tie the nus,
And brake the nose of some Lady Deuce.
Soon after succumbed,
And soon after seduced.
Poor Dunny done in by the Hooven Cloof.
And there we reveled to be in one another
for saints and sinners to see,
Two, now third-born, of a bastard Trinity.