We skipped the light fandango.
Turned cartwheels ‘cross the floor.
I was feeling kinda seasick.
But the crowd called out for more.
The room was humming harder.
As the ceiling flew away.
When we called out for another drink.
The waiter brought a tray.
A Whiter Shade Of Pale
Procol Harum (1967), Procol Harum
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