Dancing Bear

I wouldn't want to be a chimney sweep,
all black from head to foot,
from climbing in them chimneys
and cleaning out that soot.
With a broom and ladder and pail,
the darkened walls I scale,
and far and high, I see a patch of sky.
I'd rather be the gypsy,
who's camped at the edge of town,
the one who has the dancing bear
that follows him around.
And he lifts his big foot up,
he puts his big foot down,
and bows and twirls
and dances round and round.
I found I was a cabin boy
last night as I did dream,
bound upon a magic ship
for a land I'd never seen.
And the moon, she filled our sails,
and the stars, they steered our course,
and on our bow,
there was a golden horse.
The queen eats fruit and candy;
the bishop, nuts and cheese.
And when I am a grown man,
I'll taste just what I please:
the honey from the bee;
the shellfish from the sea;
the earth; the wind; a girl,
someone to share these things with me.
I wouldn't want to be a chimney sweep,
all black from head to foot,
from climbing in them chimneys
and cleaning out that soot.
I'd rather be the gypsy,
who's camped at the edge of town,
the one who has the dancing bear
that follows him around . . .
--The Mamas and the Papas