P. R. Chalmers

“ She was light as a feather, was Kitty Adare,
And she danced like a flame in a current of air;
O, look at her now—she retreating, advancing,
And stepping and stopping, and gliding and glancing
There wasn't a one was her marrow at dancing
Of all the young maidens who danced at the Fair.
O Kitty, O Kitty, O Kitty Adare,
Till the music was beaten you danced to it there ”