And, when the gentlemen offer their arms,
for a dance or for a walk,
the women laugh, or scoff, or turn away
with disgust plain on their faces,
leaving the men bewildered and alone,
sad and with heavy hearts.

Then where do they go? What do the men
do, and with whom?
The women neither know nor care to know,
for the music is beginning again,
and it is time to find new partners,
and begin a new dance of liberation.

Fair skin, long blonde hair, a dress of
palest blue--will she be the one?
What about dark skin, hair piled high in curls,
and a blood red gown of velvet?
Two by two they find one another,
curtsy like ladies, and dance together the lesbian waltz.