O proud left foot, that ventures quick within Then soon upon a backward journey lithe. Anon, once more the gesture, then begin: Command sinistral pedestal to writhe. Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke. A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl. To spin! A wilde release from heaven’s yoke. Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl. The Hoke, the poke — banish now thy doubt. Verily, I say, ’tis what it’s all about.