(He:)I won't dance, don't ask me. I won't dance, don't ask me. I won't dance, madame, with you. My heart won't let me do things they should do. You know what? You're lovely.
(She:)And so what? I'm lovely.
(He:)But, oh what you do to me. I'm like an ocean wave that's bumped on the shore; I feel so absolutely stumped on the floor.
(She:)When you dance, you're charming and you're gentle, 'specially when you do the Continental.
(He:)But this feeling isn't purely mental, for heaven rest us, I'm not asbestos. And that's why I won't dance, why should I? I won't dance, how could I? I won't dance. Merci beaucoup. I know that music leads the way to romance, so if I hold you in my arms, I won't dance.
