The Cabman Dances

Alone on the lawn
  The cabman dances;
In the dew of dawn
  He kicks and prances.
His bowler is set,
  On his bullet head,
For his boots are wet,
  And his Aunt is dead.
There on the lawn
  As the light advances,
On the tide of the dawn
  The Cabman dances.

Swift and strong
  As a garden roller,
He dances along
  In his little bowler,
Skimming the lawn
  With royal grace,
The dew of the dawn
  On his great red face.
To fairy flutes,
  As the light advances,
In square black boots
  The Cabman dances.
                         By J.B. Morton

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