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Poem

They called out "Nutmeg'" hurry up,
Fred is onstage and doesn't want another flop,
I'd been taking dancing lessons overnight,
hoping my under eye bags wouldn't cause too much fright,

Fred in his usual top hat and tails,
while I wore a dress as big as a sloop sail,
grabbing my hands and swinging me all around,
the director watching us with binoculars not making a sound,

All's you could hear was the clickity-clack of our heels,
as we danced around with sychronized comedic flair,
with Fred making faces and stepping on my toes,
while I earnestly tried to keep on my fake eyes and nose,

That was just our warm-up for our "Cheek to Cheek" number,
with the Bee Gee's arriving cool as cucumbers,
singing "Staying Alive" with a disco beat,
Fred and I got down even with my two left feet,

With Fred and I doing the hustle and the disco bump,
we were really cheek to cheeking it with our rumps,
surprisingly Fred's top hat never fell off his head,
with rumor's flying round that he even wore it to bed,

Then before I knew it I had a strange feeling,
feeling like we were dancing up the wall to the ceiling,
with the gravity suspension being very appealing,
I also noticed that the ceiling paint was peeling,

Finally the director yelled, "ok thats a wrap!"
as we were all tired and ready to hit the sack,
with me waking up in the morn with sweat all over my pillow case,
and glancing in the mirror had on a pair of fake eyes and nose on my face.




11-26-16

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