He:)I won't dance, don't ask me.

I won't dance, don't ask me.

I won't dance, madame, with you.

My heart won't let me do things they should do.

You know what? You're lovely.



(She:)And so what? I'm lovely.



(He:)But, oh what you do to me.

I'm like an ocean wave that's bumped on the shore;

I feel so absolutely stumped on the floor.



(She:)When you dance, you're charming and you're gentle,

'specially when you do the Continental.



(He:)But this feeling isn't purely mental,

for heaven rest us, I'm not asbestos.

And that's why I won't dance, why should I?

I won't dance, how could I?

I won't dance. Merci beaucoup.

I know that music leads the way to romance,

so if I hold you in my arms, I won't dance