A Conjourer Of Dance
He is a fox
and he is a hound as well,
and in his head
is a metronomic bell.
He is the lord
of a giant table top
and if you start him up he will not stop.
He's a brillant dancer,
a conjourer of dance.
He can waltz and tango,
a master of romance,
and he dress-es neatly,
a glasses wearing man,
and he likes to wear a tailcoat when he can.
He has a job
but he'll never get the sack.
A serenade
and you'll see him gliding back,
but on his own
he never will impress.
His suit is not complete without a dress.
He's a brillant dancer,
a conjourer of dance.
And he can mesmerise you
with the briefest glance.
And he dress-es neatly,
with every hair in place,
and he always shows a smile upon his face.
He is a swan
but he is a tiger too.
He might be cold
but he never gets the flu.
And he can love,
well he loves them all you see,
but when the music stops he sets them free.
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