It rules me out, it rules me in,

It gives us forty ways to spin

When once it gave us forty-four,

I can but think of two, no more.

It would be either right or left,

If right the whirl leaves me bereft

Of any breath, of any life,

The right way leads to life of strife.

If left I chose, if counter-clock,

My body’d find such ways to mock

Th’imbalance of my anti-feet,

Thus wine will drink and food will eat.

It rules me out, it rules me in,

It gives us forty ways to spin

When now it gives us forty-four

I cannot dream of any more.