Song-and-Dance Girl

The soul’s a song-and-dance girl,
waiting in her dressing room,
ready to play any role at all,
thoughtful about keeping up her range:
Gershwin’s always nice –

Sondheim’s pretty strange –
ballad and a patter-tune –
salad, light on oil, for lunch –
singing Noel Coward on a Friday night –
for that cynical elusive bunch

for whom she’s yet to do
a damned thing right.
The soul’s a song-and-dance girl
hoping to perform, keeping
every dance and song inside her warm.


 
 
 
 
 
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