Pretty partner, how are you
After such a set of lancers?
No one knowing what to do;
We alone of sixteen dancers,
Knew a figure, one or two.
Pretty partner, how are you?
Seven men and seven girls,
All in such a fog together;
One pair strides, and one pair twirls,
Neither of them knowing whether
That is what they ought to do,
Pretty partner, not like you.
You, who dance so very well,
Slight, and light, and quite delightful,
Belle who bears away the bell;
We were forced to stop, how frightful!
Yet I found one thing to do,
Pretty partner—look at you.
In that lamentable block,
Some poor lout was sure to trample
On the lace that trims your frock,
Though the space of floor seemed ample
Even for his feet which flew,
Pretty partner, after you.
Oh, the links of that "grand chain"
In such desperate confusion!
Feet, not hands, I met with pain,
Stamps on toes, kick, bruise, contusion!
Yet, alive, I've struggled through,
Pretty partner, here with you.
Figures! one alone was good,
That was yours, so slim and charming.
In your company I would
Welcome bruises more alarming.
I would dance till all was blue,
Pretty partner, if with you.
