The Ceroc Years - Number Eleven

Vitae Lambada

There’s a dancing class in the hall tonight;
Three long rows stretching to the bar.
A crowded scene in a dimming light,
Some dressed in style but no-one la-di-dah.
And it’s not to compete to be number one,
Nor to grasp someone in a lover’s lock;
But for laughter’s sake and a little fun.
Dance on! Dance on! And dance Ceroc!

The dust on the dance-floor is spattered wet;
Wet from the sweat of the man that fell.
His trousers split and his pride upset,
And his partner now stalked off as well.
Left alone and feeling infantile,
He limps away in a state of shock;
But an offered hand will restore his smile.
Dance on! Dance on! And dance Ceroc!

This is the scene where ev’ry week,
Both young and old twirl, twist and spin;
The Salsa Set and the Tango Clique,
And Lindy Hoppers just do their thing.
In this world built of pain and strife,
Why not dance and ignore the clock:
We’re granted one brief Lambada of Life;
So - Dance on! Dance on! And dance Ceroc!