Pretend I’m Fred and Ginger, you —
no better dancers than those two;
but ev’ry movie they’re in starts
with contretemps from Cupid’s darts.

Arthritis makes it hard to hoof
and sometimes Ginger is aloof;
how did they ever fall in love
when plots demand push come to shove?

I’ve heard it said that Ginger’s nuts
and Fred, he’s fairly lacking guts;
nobody cares what film they’re in
if he can surmount her chagrin.

A fine romance, this wearing masks
and canceling Fred if he asks
the girl if she would care to dance
in days when no one stands a chance.

The market for amours is soft
and Ginger’s meds are somewhat off;
but Fred’s the kind of chap that can
show Ginger he’s her biggest fan.