A great dancer was sir Dance'alot
And like his name showed
He could really dance a lot
Hundred of times in a row

His men played the lute and the flute
The music was his very master
Until he met a very rude
Yet powerful spellcaster

He said: if you don't quit dancing
While I'm talking to thee
I'll take away your dancegroove
And hide it in a tree

But Sir Dance'alot knew no fear
He simply laughed
He said: even if I drink tons of beer
I still don't believe in your witchcraft

Raged as he was, the wizzard shouted
And with his fearsome yell
Sir Dance'alot placed his foot wrong
And so he terribly fell

With the final beat of the drum
His groove just disapeard
He could no longer dance
And his heart was filled with fear

No matter how much he cried
The wizzard stood his ground
Go find your groove, he said
In a different place, a different town

And thus Sir Dance'alot needed to go
As he rode out on his horse, Morninggrey
The horn gave a last, sad blow
But he was already on his way

And until this very day
He still hasn't found his groove
He became a drunk, by all dismayed
Covered with the stench of sour booze

Though in his hometown
The wizzard never went away
He led the city to prosperity
So they all wanted him to stay

Yet no dancer
Were ever as good as him
But they found an answer
They left dancing to go swim