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My fine Dauncer.
Heigh, w'on turne more, let's see this Galliard out,
I promise you the fellow doth it well:
How nimbly at his trade he turnes about,
At hopping vp and downe he doth excell:
Well, let him daunce it out, and when tis done,
A daunce twixt him and Death must be begun.
I promise you the fellow doth it well:
How nimbly at his trade he turnes about,
At hopping vp and downe he doth excell:
Well, let him daunce it out, and when tis done,
A daunce twixt him and Death must be begun.
You nimble skipiacke, turning on the toe,
As though you had Gun-pouder in your tayle:
You that do leape about and caper soe,
Esteeming our old Country Daunces stale.
You that do liue by shaking of the heele,
By hopping, and by turning like a wheele.
As though you had Gun-pouder in your tayle:
You that do leape about and caper soe,
Esteeming our old Country Daunces stale.
You that do liue by shaking of the heele,
By hopping, and by turning like a wheele.
Ile Stabbe yee.
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