The skeletons whirled ’round and ’round,

waltzing and clacking with a whistling sound,

as the breeze blew through their bones so dry,

and they danced and they danced till the dawn broke the sky.

Tea and spearmint, a drop of gin,

let this winsome dance begin.

Add some amber, good and smooth,

helps the dry and white bones move.

Must have been the bones of folks

who never wore the peasants’ yokes

but finer sorts of dames and gents

embalmed with some outlandish ‘nard

whose perfume still flecks the boneyard.