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Polka Dottie

When the up-tempo “Beer Barrel Polka” began
I grabbed sweet John’s arm, curtsied to my man

The Polish side of my family hit the floor
While my new groom wished he could slip out the back door

There was only one dance I’d ever seen John do
His “variation of the twist,” shuffling one shoe

In fear he stood at first, wishing he’d taken lessons
Then hoped he could fake it, capture polka’s essence

But his sister Dottie could see poor John’s distress
So she hoisted up the hem of her bridesmaid’s dress

My family cleared way as Dottie started to prance
Oh, yeah, this gal surely knew how to Polka dance

John slipped behind the bar with a bottle of gin
As Dot spun me ‘round and my legs did a tailspin
	
So fast we twirled that I quickly became dizzy
Barrett fell from my hair and wild hair flew frizzy

Now what was I seeing, not one Dot, at least two
The Polka Dots took lead and when the dance was through

Dot told me she’d done it to rescue her brother
Who was now being helped to the loo by his mother

Dottie became an honorary “Pole” that night
Pleasing me and saving face to my groom’s delight





Written January 11, 2019
For Edward Ibeh’s Polka Dots Contest

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