Seems years now since I saw old Malc,
Silvered hair all plastered down.
On the dance floor of the palais,
With a girl in ballroom gown.

He would glide up to them gracefully,
Then take them by the hand.
And lead them to the dance floor,
While whistling to the band.

This morn I saw him in the town,
A fair lady on his arm.
Taking no notice of other women,
And giving them no charm.

When I reached him oh how I did laugh,
A walking stick hooked on his wrist.
He was cantering like a race horse,
As if a plane he'd missed.

I said Malc what’s the stick for,
Then he began a grinning,
I can walk just as well as you,
It’s for beating off the women.

You'll never change this silver fox,
So cunning and sly he can be.
With his grace charm and elegance,
He's a natural for me.