Potato's Dance

<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN> <p id="id00213" style="margin-top: 4em"> The Potato's Dance</p> <p id="id00214" style="margin-top: 2em">  "Down cellar," said the cricket,<br/> "I saw a ball last night<br/> In honor of a lady<br/> Whose wings were pearly-white.<br/> The breath of bitter weather<br/> Had smashed the cellar pane:<br/> We entertained a drift of leaves<br/> And then of snow and rain.<br/> But we were dressed for winter,<br/> And loved to hear it blow<br/> In honor of the lady<br/> Who makes potatoes grow—<br/> Our guest, the Irish lady,<br/> The tiny Irish lady,<br/> The fairy Irish lady<br/> That makes potatoes grow.<br/></p> <p id="id00215">  "Potatoes were the waiters,<br/> Potatoes were the band,<br/> Potatoes were the dancers<br/> Kicking up the sand:<br/> Their legs were old burnt matches,<br/> Their arms were just the same,<br/> They jigged and whirled and scrambled<br/> In honor of the dame:<br/> The noble Irish lady<br/> Who makes potatoes dance,<br/> The witty Irish lady,<br/> The saucy Irish lady,<br/> The laughing Irish lady<br/> Who makes potatoes prance.<br/></p> <p id="id00216">  "There was just one sweet potato.<br/> He was golden-brown and slim:<br/> The lady loved his figure.<br/> She danced all night with him.<br/> Alas, he wasn't Irish.<br/> So when she flew away,<br/> They threw him in the coal-bin<br/> And there he is to-day,<br/> Where they cannot hear his sighs—<br/> His weeping for the lady,<br/> The beauteous Irish lady,<br/> The radiant Irish lady<br/> Who gives potatoes eyes."<br/></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />