When we were young and merry, in those times so long ago,
When with our young companions, to the Ballroom we would go.
We would park our cycles safely, with our topcoat in our hands,
And our toes would be a twinkling to the music of the band.

As we strode along the maple, we were feeling mighty fine,
So we viewed the row of lovelies, sitting closely in a line.
As we sauntered from the cloakroom and took our place in line
We surveyed all the talent and hoped some one was mine.

So when the music started, sure the rush was just melee,
And I hoped some one was willing, to dance a while with me.
And as I held her closely and spoke of this and that,
I often whispered 'sorry' when her toes, I made a mat.

When the final tune was playing, As I asked for the "convay"
So she whispered, sorry darling My Dad is on his way.
1 feel those rules need changing, 1 will come with you tonight
And when I meet your Father I will tell him you have rights.

We cycled in quite slowly, as the moon was shining bright,
With a gasp she said, ''he's coming", as there came a powerful light.
So we said good-bye and parted, Said she would be at the next dance,
So I said, "don't bring your Father,
If you do, forget Romance!"