|O proud left foot, that ventures quick within|
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinstral pedastal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from heaven's yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke—banish now thy doubt.
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.