The Man Who Could Not Dance.

He was no Dancing Queen,
And definitely not seventeen.
He watched as others shuffled,
But he just looked like a chicken, with feathers ruffled.

As his friend clubbed the night away,
He watched on with dismay.
They drank their Dancing Cowboys all night,
While he glared at them with intense spite.

He tried to learn how to folk dance,
But he tripped over his long, gangly pants.
There was no hope for him in hip hop,
He spent two weeks in the doctor’s shop.

Dancing types like Jazz were wasted on him,
His teacher ended up staying in the loony bin.
No matter how hard he tried to dance,
His feet wouldn’t move; he had no chance.

One day, a man came to him,
And offered him pants with yellow lining.
He promised him many things,
The most desirable being that he could soon jig.

The pants, they fit him so well.
His excitement was tangible, and down the steps he fell.
When he stood up, he could not believe his feet,
They wanted to jig from breakfast ‘til sleep.