We skipped a light fandango And turned cartwheels 'cross the floor. I was feeling kind of seasick, The crowd called out for more. The room was humming harder. As the ceiling flew away. When we called out for another drink, The waiter brought a tray.
And so it was that later, As the miller told his tale, That her face at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale.
She said there is no reason. And the truth is plain to see That I wandered through my playing cards, Would not let her be One of sixteen vestal virgins Who were leaving for the coast. And although my eyes were open, They might just as well have been closed.
And so it was later, As the miller told his tale, That her face at first just ghostly, Turned a whiter shade of pale.