Rig-a-jig Jig

You danced for the rain, you danced for the sun,

for your crops and herds, for the birth of a son,

your feet so small, our own so big,

we filled our bellies and we left you none.

Dance, dance, for a feather or a fig,

dance round the world with a rig-a-jig jig.

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We danced to the east, we danced to the west,

your dance was cursed, our dance was blessed,

you danced to the zither, we danced for the loot,

you danced on your toes, we danced on your chest.

Dance, dance to a fiddle or a flute,

we dance on the world with a hob-nailed boot.

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It’s as old as the hills and as fresh as the day,

it’s a victory dance and it’s here to stay,

the tune is commerce or the tune is war,

our hearts made of stone and our feet of clay.

Our world was a maid, now the world is our whore,

‘cos the only dance is the dance of “More!”.

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