by William Carlos Williams
In Breughel’s great picture,
The Kermess,
The dancers go round,
They go round and around,
The squeal and the blare and the tweekle of bagpipes,
A bugle and fiddles tipping their bellies
(round as the thick-sided glasses whose wash they impound)
their hips and their bellies off balance to turn them.
Kicking and rolling about the Fair Grounds,
Swinging their butts,
Those shanks must be sound to bear up under such rollicking measures
Prance as they dance,
In Breughel’s great picture, the Kermess.
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