My Lord may walk a pas de Cour To Jenny's pas de Châlet ; The folks who ne'er have danced before, Can dance-in 'Cupid's Alley.' And here, for ages yet untold, Long, long before my ditty, Came high and low, and young and old, From out the crowded City; And still to-day they come, they go, And just as fancies tally, They foot it quick, they foot it slow, All day--in 'Cupid's Alley.' Strange dance! 'Tis free to Rank and Rags ; Here no distinction flatters, Here Riches shakes its money-bags And Poverty its tatters; Church, Army, Navy, Physic, Law ; Maid, Mistress, Master, Valet; Long locks, gray hairs, bald heads, and a', They bob-in 'Cupid's Alley.' Strange pairs! To laughing, fresh Fifteen Here capers Prudence thrifty; Here Prodigal leads down the green A blushing Maid of fifty; Some treat it as a serious thing, And some but shilly-shally; And some have danced without the ring (Ah me!)—in 'Cupid's Alley.' And sometimes one to one will dance, And one by one will stand, perchance, Yet look all ways to find her; Some seek a partner with a sigh, Some win him with a sally; And some, they know not how nor why, Strange fate of 'Cupid's Alley.' And some will dance an age or so Who came for half a minute; And some, who like the game, will go Before they well begin it; And some will vow they're ' danced to death,' Who (somehow) always rally; Strange cures are wrought (mine author saith), Strange cures !-in 'Cupid's Alley.' It may be one will dance to-day, And dance no more to-morrow; It be one will steal away may And nurse a life-long sorrow; What then? The rest advance, evade, Unite, dispart, and dally, Re-set, coquet, and gallopade, Not less-in 'Cupid's Alley.' For till that City's wheel-work vast And shuddering beams shall crumble ;- And till that Fiddler lean at last From off his seat shall tumble ;— Till then (the Civic records say) This quaint, fantastic ballet Of Go and Stay, of Yea and Nay, Must last-in 'Cupid's Alley.' |