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THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO.
93
The Bishop buckled to his task
With battements, cuts, and pas de basque
(I'll tell you, if you care to ask,
That Peter was his name.)
"Come, walk like this," the dancer said,
"Stick out your toes—stick in your head,
Stalk on with quick, galvanic tread—
Your fingers thus extend;
The attitude's considered quaint."
The weary Bishop, feeling faint,
Replied, "I do not say it ain't,
But 'Time!' my Christian friend!"
"We now proceed to something new—
Dance as the Paynes and Lauris do,
Like this—one, two—one, two—one, two."
The Bishop, never proud,
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