The Night The Pugilist Learned How To Dance

In the streets around here
There was nobody tougher than me
I was quick with me fists and fast with me footwork
As you can plainly see.

But while fighting was useful for getting your way
‘Mong the toughs of the town where you could hold sway
There had to be something that was better than this
I was fourteen years old and I'd never been kissed.

Well of course she'd ignore me and her friends would all sneer
At me bloody nose dripping and me cauliflower ear
For it's hard to convince in a romantic pose with two lovely black eyes and a broke nose.

Where a girl is attracted to skills more refined
Than the pugilists' art, and so I inclined
To take meself serious as a modern romancer
And I secretly learned all the moves of a dancer.

So, ye swing to the left, and ye swing to the right
Keep your eyes on your partner, like you would in a fight
Just keep to the rhythm and follow the beat
The important thing's never to look at your feet.

Then a miracle happens, your mind's in a trance
Though the strategy's subtle, retreat and advance
It's all about attitude, all in your stance
Attention to detail, leave nothing to chance
Which explains how the pugilist finally learned how to dance.

And I'd waltz with a broomstick and if I was caught
I'd pretend I was sweeping or practicing sport
But I really had eyes for your mother ye see
Wanting her to acknowledge this new version of me.

Now everyone's watching, expecting I'll fail
But there's a fire in me belly, and there's a wind in me sails
I knew it was risky, I was taking a chance
But I couldn't retreat now, I had to advance.

So ye swing to the left and ye swing to the right
(Keep your eyes on your partner like you would in a fight)
Just keep to the rhythm and follow the beat
(The important thing's never to look at yer feet)

(Then a miracle's happened, and your mind's in a trance)
They're all laughing and cheering and looking askance.

On the night that the pugilist
Finally learned how to dance
In a bout where the strategist's bridges were burned.

Where is seemed that his fortune had suddenly turned
‘Twas the night that the scrapper was suddenly dapper
This poor fellow's heart was still going like the clappers
The night that the pugilist finally learned how to dance.