My Dancing Uncles
My uncles Peter, Paul and Lance
Had dirty jobs but loved to dance.
They went to work without a care
And took their lead from Fred Astaire.
The Corporation called the tune:
Employing each to push a broom,
The mayor beseeched my uncles three
To sweep the streets artistically.
They swept in line to foxtrot time,
Beating out a rhythm;
Their movements really were sublime –
That much you had to give ‘em.
None who saw them could ignore them
As they swept the dirt before them.
The sick and sad and slightly mad
Observed their work and then were glad.
If your job involves a broom,
Don’t assume that all is doom,
Simply croon a strict dance tune
And brush away all thoughts of gloom.