Step up, step up

Masks on the faces I see
which come to dance
They step up, step up
The oil is on canvas
Yet the painter is dead
On those rails I see blood
You wish to see too?
Then step up, step up
Mama Gita, where is your gal
Today of days
The dance of dances
When garlanded maidens
Step up, step up?
Does she shy away
From men, eligible bachelors
Just in from the tumbles
Proving themselves cats?
Remind her that her cronies
have long since tied the knot
And buried placentas under
Those tall tall trees.
Oh, there she is at last
Come on, hurry!
Step up, step up.