There’s a little absinth dancer at the corner club todayAnd the eyes are all upon her as she slowly, gently sways
She doesn’t see the staring as her mind is far away
Chasing chartreuse butterflies, she’s gently soft at play
The little absinth dancer likes to gyre away her time
On this, her dimly little floor, while listening to rhymes
And the men upon the stage will drum to help her keep her time
The blank look on her patient face is serenely sublime
No one knows the absinth dancer’s name or house or role
No one knows whence she arrived upon her languid little stroll
No one knows what ghastly thing she drinks her absinth to console
They know only that to dance upon a hardwood floor’s her goal
So let’s watch the little absinth dancer rotate as she sways
And we’ll view her as she sips and spins her little time away
Let’s disturb not her gyrations lest she not decide to stay
For her presence makes the lonely little corner club less gray