Can That Boy Foxtrot! - Stephen Sondheim, Sally Mayes

I know this grocery clerk

Unprepossessing

Some think the boy’s a jerk

They have my blessing

But when he starts to move

He aims to please

Which only goes to prove

That sometimes in a clerk you

Find a Hercules

He hasn’t much that’s plus

You might describe him thus:

A false alarm

A broken arm

An imitation Hitler and with littler charm

But oh, can that boy foxtrot!

His mouth is mean

He’s not too clean

What makes him look reptilian is the brilliantine

But oh, can that boy foxtrot!

Who knows what I saw in him?

I took a chance

Oh, yes, one more flaw in him:

He can’t dance

As dumbbells go

He’s rather slow

And as for being saintly, even faintly, no

But who needs Albert Schweitzer when the lights are low?

And oh boy, oh boy

Can that boy foxtrot!

Say, pal

Look at the classy

Coed queen

That gal

Wiggles her chassis

Good and mean

Look, she’s givin' us the eye

Strictly on the sly

Say, I think she’s tryin' to vamp us

See ya 'round the campus

Oh, man

Look at that hot stuff

She is hep

You can

Tell that she’s got stuff

See her step!

Maybe I could take a chance

Grab her for a dance

Make a few advances later

See ya, alligator!

Say, cutie pie

Wanna shake it with me, cutie pie?

You better shut up!

Say, Miss

Wanna swing it with me?

I’m a cut-up!

Gimme a chance!

Hey, cutie

Hey, Miss

Wanna shake it up with me?

I’m a cut-up

You better shut up!

You’ll feel

With me

As a feather and

Stop, there’s a cushion

Watch where you’re pushin'

Whoa, boys!

Let’s not fight, boys

Be refined

Line forms to the right, boys

Simmer down and tell me what you have in mind

I do the rumba

Turkey trot

Polka, gavotte

And tango

I do the conga

Bolero, castle walk

And fandango

Whoo!

I do the rumba

Turkey trot

Be!

Gavotte

And tango

Line!

I do the conga

Bo-

Right boys!

Castle walk

And fandango

All right, that’s quite enough

Let’s see you do your stuff

I pass

Too crass

You just can’t foxtrot

A shame

Too tame

You just can’t foxtrot

Right now as I speak of him

I hear those drums

And oh, the technique of him

He’s all thumbs

His jokes are quaint

And fairly faint

He may be full of hokum but I’ve no complaint

He often is a bore, but on the floor he ain’t

And oh boy, oh boy

Can that boy foxtrot! (Ooh)