PALE...

PROCUL HARUM

We skipped a light fandango,

Turned cartwheels 'cross the floor.

I was feeling kind of seasick,

But the crowd called out for more.

The room was humming harder,

As the ceiling flew away.

When we called out for another drink,

The waiter brought a tray.
And so it was that later,

As the miller told his tale,

That her face at first just ghostly,

Turned a whiter shade of pale.

SHOE