“Would you like to dance?” said Woody.
“I’d love to,” said Arianne with her voice and mischievious eyes, les yeux canailles for which Woody had fallen so many years ago. Woody took her by the hand and they began to waltz slowly. As they danced, her presence reawakened in him memories which had been transient, coming and going as a thing might invoke a memory of her. Now, the smell of her magnolia perfume, the headiness of her voice, the blondness of her hair, the greenness of her yeux canailles, all came together into the woman that he knew from long ago. She was again in his arms and he lost his heart as surely as the boy who had first danced to the Cajun song on the jukebox some twenty years ago. The simple waltz played on an acoustic accordion with a simple guitar and violin reminded both of him of country dances where they had courted in their youth.
Would you like to come again?
Sweet Joile Blonde, place your hand in mine.
Let me see those seen green eyes to smile.
Let us dance again, like we did for a time.
And let me smell the magnolias for a while.
Let me see those seen green eyes to smile.
Sweet Jolie Blonde, hold me not to end.
And let me smell the magnolias for a while.
Let us fold and find ourselves so to begin.
Sweet Jolie Blonde, hold me not to end.
Let me hear the music in your voice.
Let us fold and find ourselves so to begin.
And let me whisper in your ear and rejoice.
Let me hear the music in your voice.
Let me taste your married cherry lips.
And let me whisper in your ear and rejoice.
And let me warm next to those oh so bold hips.
Let me taste your married cherry lips.
Come, let us dance, again and again.
And let me warm next to those oh so bold hips.
And not to part again, amen and amen.
Come, let us dance, again and again.
Let us dance again, like we did for a time.
And not to part again, amen and amen.
Sweet Joile Blonde, place your hand in mine.