DAD DON’T DANCE

Whatever you do, don’t dance, Dad 

Whatever you do, don’t dance. 

Don’t wave your arms 

Like a crazy buffoon 

Displaying your charms 

By the light of the moon 

Trying to romance 

A lady baboon 

Whatever you do, Dad, don’t dance. 

When you try to dance 

Your left leg retreats 

And your right leg starts to advance 

Whatever you do, don’t dance, Dad 

Has a ferret crawled into your pants? 

Or maybe a hill full of ants 

Don’t samba  

Don’t rumba 

You’ll tumble  

And stumble 

Whatever you do, Dad, don’t dance 

Don’t glide up the aisle with a trolley 

Or twirl the girl on the till 

You’ve been banned from dancing in Tesco’s 

‘Cos your tango made everyone ill. 

Whatever you do, don’t dance, Dad 

Whatever you do don’t dance 

Don’t make that weird face 

Like you ate a sour plum 

Don’t waggle your hips 

And stick out your bum 

But most of all – PLEASE – 

Don’t smooch with Mum! 

Whatever the circumstance. 

Whatever you do – 

Dad, don’t dance.