May you - Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no-one is read more

May you - Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no-one is watching, screw like it's being filmed, and drink like a true Irishman

Dancing is silent poetry.

Dancing is silent poetry.

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say read more

And then he danced;--all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime;--he danced, I say right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense--
A thing in footing indispensable:
He danced without theatrical pretence,
Not like a ballet-master in the van
Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground
In a light fantastic round.

Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of read more

Dear creature!--you'd swear
When her delicate feet in the dance twinkle round,
That her steps are of light, that her home is the air,
And she only par complaisance touches the ground.

I do not try to dance better than anyone else. I only try to to dance better than myself.

I do not try to dance better than anyone else. I only try to to dance better than myself.

Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

Come and trip it as ye go,
On the light fantastic toe.

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;
read more

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances
Under the orchard-trees and down the path to the meadows;
Old fold and young together, and children mingled among them.

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
read more

What! the girl I adore by another embraced?
What! the balm of her breath shall another man taste?
What! pressed in the dance by another's man's knee?
What! panting recline on another than me?
Sir, she's yours; you have pressed from the grape its fine blue,
From the rosebud you've shaken the tremulous dew;
What you've touched you may take. Pretty waltzer--adieu!