The brass trumpet sounds
In the dark, where weeps aloud
And hearts are made of silver
To match her necklace that slithers

As a snake which tangos
When their bracelets dangle
No one seems  much surprised
For  her dance, the cobra rise

To greet the man on the street
As he is poisoned head to feet
Shake the jeepers, I'm telling you
If not, may your spirit be cool

She is definitely a piece of work
And drunken whispers offer jerks
But, they do not have a clue
This woman moves to voodoo

Wiggle... Jiggle.. Lady Dancer
You  eat them like a malice cancer
Wiggle... Jiggle... Lady Dancer
Tomorrow,  you will have to answer.