The Arctic Ball

They gave a ball in the Arctic Zone, And they danced on the frozen sea. The North-wind blew on a big trombone, And he played tunes that would melt a stone, But none in a minor key; For that would melt ice and lower the tone. Imagine a ball in the Arctic Zone On a melting, mushy sea!

An Arctic ball is a long, long thing, For it’s dark for six months there. They dance from Fall till early Spring, The two-step, waltz and the Highland-fling, Utterly free from care. They eat ice-cream that they have to blow To cool it off for it burns them so; And they all drink liquified air.

The whalloping whales came floundering through A hole in the icy floor; And the Seals all came and the Caribou, The old Musk-ox, and the Reindeer too And many many more. They all joined feet and flippers and fins And danced ’round the Pole where the world begins, With bark and bellow and roar.

When Boreas started an Irish reel The Reindeer pricked up his ears; And a thrill ran through him from antler to heel Of longing to dance that he couldn’t conceal, Although the most proper of deers. So they scattered some sand in an open space And gave him a hearty call; And he sidestepped out with a rythmical pace, And danced to the reel with the greatest of grace. ’Twas the finest thing at the ball!

An Iceberg waltzed with the Northern Light; And she flushed and smiled and said: “O, why, dear Berg, so cool tonight? You give me a chill and a frosty fright, Lest I catch a cold in my head.” “I’m as warm as I dare to be, my sweet, With dancing and love of you; If I loved you more or should hurry my feet, My blood would rise to a fever heat, Fahrenheit thirty-two. And then I’d melt and babble away, From a tall iceberg to a big flat bay; Melted for love of you.”

The Walrus danced with the Polar Bear, But it wasn’t much for grace; Their joints were rusty and out of repair: But the Bear wore an icicle wreath in her hair, And the Walrus a smiling face. And the Chaperone said, behind her fan: “They’re doing the best they possibly can, And laughter is out of place!”

The North Pole listened and wondered why He felt such a troublesome thrill; Though he stood stock still as they all danced by, It was sorely against his will. But if he should move just the wink of an eye, The world would wabble and things would fly And the oceans would surely spill. So he heaved a sigh and took a brace And held himself in his proper place, And “the old world wags on still.”