Put On Your Dancing Shoes

let’s go beachcombing at midnight we’ll get a nice moontan, although slight and maybe we’ll find a stray camellia straight from the shores of sunny Astraylia I had a friend, an adroit dreamer he hung himself with a guitar string and then I met you, my avid diva so put on your shoes, your dancing shoes and let’s dance swing while beachcombing I’m too flummoxed and too transfixed from what was there among the debris a message in the bottle – for us and I’m under your spell now, bewitched since you’re a virgin child of the sea and together we can truly be free dancing the swing every night with no fuss