To the Artist's Page To our home page
To Melvin Sandberg's previous piece To Melvin Sandberg's next piece
A Stranger at the Dance A crowd of thousands gathered at the Pekin county fair To pick the finest dancer in the west; The greatest of the dancers in the land assembled there To try to win the prize for being best. The town folk cheered their heroes as the dancers whirled about, When suddenly a stranger came to town, And danced so well and skillfully he won without a doubt, For his sandals never seemed to touch the ground. His hair was red as sunset and his eyes were azure blue, His cheeks the shade of pink that graced the rose, And the color of his garments were of an unearthly hue, Iridescent like a rainbow were his clothes. "Who are you?" asked the mayor as he handed him the prize, "We've never seen you in our town before; I've never seen such dancing and I can't believe my eyes; You have won the grandest trophy in the store." "My friends call me Will Jackson, on the dance floor there are none Who against me could be given half a chance; Lightning is my spotlight, crashing thunder is my drum, And the westwind plays the music when I dance." Up stepped the local favorite, his face a mask of rage, And plunged a knife into Will Jackson's chest; A jagged streak of lightning struck him dead upon the stage, As Jackson cried out in his great distress. The rain came down in torrents, lightning flashed across the sky; High in the clouds the God of thunder roared. The people looked toward heaven and they prayed to the most high, While on the thirsty grass the cold rain poured. Will Jackson disappeared and most folks thought that he was dead, But adding to his legend going round, A decade later five young boys with hair of sunset red Were seen whose sandals never touched the ground.
To the top of this page