David MurphyThe dancer turns elegantly:
her pivot light and feathery,
her eyes as brilliant as a wren’s,
her lithe form swanlike as she spins
in ceremonial artistry.
The dance is life, felicity,
and also deep despondency.
Away from falls, time and again,
the dancer turns.
The nimble dancer gracefully
moves to the places she should be:
past the stages where dreams end,
to the theaters that love attends
where with airy vitality
the dancer turns.
The Ballerina
There once was a girl from Argentina,
From the city of Magdalena,
She was as slender as a fawn
As graceful as a swan,
And so she became a ballerina.
The Lucky Kentuckian
There once was a child from Kentucky,
One who was bold and brave and quite plucky
He would bet on horse races,
On dice, and on aces,
And he would win because he was lucky.
The Girl from Berlin
There once was a girl from Berlin
Who thought butter and cream were a sin
She said cakes came at too high a cost
But she never knew what she lost—
For there’s a price for staying too thin!
