The Night Waves break along the Sandy Shore;

The gale that raced the foam at eventide

Has hurtled southwards Ecuador to cool,

And give fresh kisses to the tropic towns.

The plaster hull that lurks beside the bay

And does in daytime with Narcissan bliss

Admire its creamy Saracenic face

Within the mirror-soft waters of the port

That cluck and squeak beneath quay, caulk and keel,

Throws high its coloured glare for all to see.

 

Come Merrymakers from the shabby hills,

One night is left before the Sabbath’s gloom,

Now laughter-throated bells sing far and clear,

Come from your Silver-Pits and Sugar-Slopes!

Come down your rugged passes, wear your best!

Two fiddlers are from Santa Anna shipped!

A cask of southern Tinto’s on the way!

And blithe Mercedes is my promised bride,

And she will sing her song the whole night through!

And we will dance till moonlight fades to day!

 

Come Tio, Tia, Prima, Abuela!

Come Merrymakers, miss no single bar!

No single note, no single semitone,

No single glass, no single laugh, no kiss!

 

Dancing—my little love and I’ll be dancing—

My little love and I’ll be dancing—

Till all the world lies dead!

Heart beat—My heart is beating fastly—wildly—

My heart is beating madly—wildly

A smile she’s cast—a tear I’ve shed.

 

You fiddlers two from Santo Anno,

You peasant proud at tha piano,

You merchant, with your Vino mellow—

Your silver rings from Porto Bello—

You starry sky, you fleeting moon,

You languid night—Why die so soon?

 

Dancing—my little love and I’ll be dancing—

My cherished sweet and I’ll be dancing—

Till every Star has fled!

Dancing—my little love and I’ll be dancing,

My little love and I’ll be—

 

Stop that drink there, Ferdinando!

Look he’s swaying, poor Orlando!

He only gets besotted rarely,

(We must to everyone act fairly),

Take a look at Ricci Rinto—

He has cast a jug of Tinto

Over Señorita Villa

He has spoilt her silk mantilla!

 

Skip here! My little love and I will skip here!

My little love and I will bound and trip here!

Till every tear is shed.

Miss here, my little jewel will miss here;

In harmony we’ll kick—then kiss here,

Till all the world lies dead.

 

Heigh—tune up that fat Viola!

Sing up, Señorita Lola!

Your melody is lapsing slightly,

There—the ballet still seems sprightly.

Just a glass more, for your thirst—

KARAMBA––the Drum has burst!

Your Enrico is a zany—

He has ruined the Timpani!

 

Dancing—my little love and I’ll be dancing—

 

Gone—the golden Vino mellow,

Gone—the cask from Porto Bello.

Both the fiddlers sound are sleeping,

Everyone is lying drowsy,

Señor Pedro’s hair’s untidy,

Gaiety is drossed and frowsy,

Morning’s rays are slyly creeping,

Ah—this ball is past its heyday.

Alone—two hearts alone are swaying,

Singing, laughing and balleting!

Though no tune remains to guide us,

(All too sleepy are to chide us),

They are sleeping, we are dancing,

In our land of dreams entrancing!

 

Dancing—my little love and I’ll be dancing—

My little love and I’ll be dancing,

Till

  all

   the

    world

      lies

       dead

         to

          the

            world!