Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/95

 The Bishop buckled to his task With battements, cuts, and pas de basque (I'll tell you, if you care to ask,
 * That 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 and  do, Like this—one, two—one, two—one, two."
 * The Bishop, never proud,