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Git yo' little sagehens ready; Trot 'em out upon the floor— Line up there, you critters! Steady! Lively, now! One couple more. Shorty, shed that ol' sombrero; Broncho, douse that cigaret; Stop yer cussin', Casimero, Tore the ladies. Now, all set:
S'lute yer ladies, all together; Ladies opposite the same; Hit the lumber with yer leather; Balance all an* swing yer dame; Bunch the heifers in the middle; Circle stags an' do-ce-do; Keep a-steppin' to the fiddle; Swing 'em round an' off you go.
First four forward. Back to places. Second foller. Shuffle back— Now you've got it down to cases— Swing 'em till their trotters crack. Gents all right a-heel an' toein'; Swing 'em—kiss 'em if yo' kin— On to next an' keep a-goin' Till yo' hit yer pards agin.
Gents to center. Ladies 'round 'em; Form a basket; balance all; Swing yer sweets to where yo' found 'em; All p'mnade around the hall.