Dorrego Moon

 A whirl, a twirl, a strut, a cross, a step or two

´neath leafy boughs.  On high the Dorrego Moon

peaks through the leaves.   These happy fools

with joy, or pain, feel the moment.  And so soon

 will it end.   The music cools the sorrow of  life,

and the breeze each brow that sweats.     Alone

are some, even embraced, others are not.  Strife

so far away.   In your thoughts and travels, son

 heed not one  who cannot pray, or think, or strive.

Dance as you can,  and ponder, if you would be wise.