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letra de taglio! - s.j. tucker

dance like you mean it darlings

lithe-limbed boys with secrets in your eyes
come and dance where you’ll be understood
dancing maid, leave your golden ball
forgotten in the dark of the wood

moon and moor and fire and fen
we hunt in the night for a song
black hooves flashing as the flames fly high
you will know us well by the dawn
if you dare try the tune sing along

wiry gypsy boy, take my hand
and you’ll not be found come mornin’
sham to splendor and back again
where the boot black hooves are shinin’

oncе and again round the leaping fire
thеre’s a secret some folk know:
offer sweet mutton and not your arm–
better hope that you’re dancing with taglio!
better pray the gaselli is taglio

do we kiss like poets imagine they do
twixt the arms of the dusk and the dawn
by the green you shall know us
and the boot-black hooves
whirling round with your heart in pavane
we are drawn to your leaping fire
and you feast your mind on our song
bright eyes flash in the leaping light
e’er the rising of the sun we are gone
one or two of your number come along

wiry gypsy boy, take my hand
and you’ll not be found come mornin’
sham to splendor, and back again
where the boot black hooves are shinin’

once and again round the leaping fire
there’s a secret some folk know:
offer sweet mutton and not your arm–
better hope that you’re dancing with taglio!
better pray the gaselli is taglio

last night, alec drummed like a demon fell
with the light, he is nowhere to be found
the lass in green who caught our alec’s eye
must’ve whisked him away without a sound!
where a young bess danced like a fairy faun
not a trace, and you fear she is dead
bold gaselli wear the green just so
and we’ll dance you right out of your head
and leave behind not a sole drop of red!
bringers of grace and tenders of fire
we dance to the beat of your drum
fret ye not about the boot-black hooves
in the corner of your eye, nay, it must’ve been the rum!
just as well not to think of the feast that’s to come
saving poor taglio, with a hunger we come!

wiry gypsy boy, take my hand
and you’ll not be found come mornin’
sham to splendor, and back again
where the boot black hooves are shinin’

once and again round the leaping fire
there’s a secret some folk know:
offer sweet mutton and not your arm–
better hope that you’re dancing with taglio!
better pray the gaselli is taglio
better hope that his name is taglio
taglio
taglio
taglio

- s j tucker

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