"Right Reverend Sir, in half a crack,"
Replied that dancing man.
The dancing man he worked away
And taught the Bishop every day--
The dancer skipped like any fay--
Good Peter did the same.
The Bishop buckled to his task
With _battements_, cuts, and _pas de basque_
(I'll tell you, if you care to ask,
That Peter was his name).
"Come, walk like this," the dancer said,
"Stick out your toes--stick in your head.
Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread--
Your fingers thus extend;
The attitude's considered quaint,"
The weary Bishop, feeling faint,
Replied, "I do not say it ain't,
But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"
"We now proceed to something new--
Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,
Like this--one, two--one, two--one, two."
The Bishop, never proud,
But in an overwhelming heat
(His name was Peter, I repeat),
Performed the Payne and Lauri feat,
And puffed his thanks aloud.
Another game the dancer planned--
"Just take your ankle in your hand,
And try, my lord, if you can stand--
Your body stiff and stark.
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