Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Night The Pugilist Learned How To Dance, artist - Sting.
Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Song language: English
The Night The Pugilist Learned How To Dance |
In the streets around here there was nobody tougher than me |
I was quick with me fists and fast with me footwork as you can plainly see |
But while fighting was useful for getting your way |
Among the toughs of the town where you could hold sway |
There had to be something that was better than this |
I was fifteen years old and I’d never been kissed |
Well of course she’d ignore me, her friends would all sneer |
At me bloody nose dripping and me cauliflower ear |
For it’s hard to convince in a romantic pose |
With a lovely black eye and a broken nose |
Where a girl is attracted to skills more refined |
Than the pugilist’s art, and so I inclined |
To take meself serious as a modern romancer |
And I secretly learnt all the moves of a dancer |
You swing to the left, you swing to the right |
Keep your eyes on your partner, more or less like a fight |
You just follow the rhythm, and you keep to the beat |
The important thing’s never to look at your feet |
Then a miracle happens, your mind’s in a trance |
Though the strategy’s subtle, retreat and advance |
It’s all about attitude, all in your stance |
Attention to detail, leaving nothing to chance |
Which explains how the pugilist finally learned how to dance |
Well, I’d waltz with a broomstick and if I was caught |
I’d pretend I was sweeping or practicing sport |
But I really had eyes for your mother you see |
Wanting her to acknowledge this new version of me |
But now everyone’s watching, expecting I’ll fail |
But there’s fire in me belly, there’s wind in me sails |
I knew it was risky and I was taking a chance |
I couldn’t retreat now, I had to advance |
So I swing to the left, I swing to the right |
Keep me eyes on me partner, like I would in a fight |
I just keep to the rhythm and follow the beat |
The important thing’s never to look at your feet |
But a miracle’s happened, and your mind’s in a trance |
They’re all laughing and cheering and looking askance |
On the night that the pugilist finally learned how to dance |
It’s a three-minute round and you’re back in your corner |
You’re licking your wounds just like little Jack Horner |
Don’t let your guard down, try a jab with your right |
Or you’re losing on points by the end of the night |
Then a miracle happens, and everyone’s screaming |
You’re pinching yourself just in case you’re still dreaming |
You’ve taken the initiative, you’ve taken your chance |
It’s the night when this pugilist finally learned how to dance |
In a bout where the strategist’s bridges were burned |
Where it seemed that his fortune had suddenly turned |
T’was the night that this scrapper was suddenly dapper |
And this poor fellow’s heart was still going like the clappers |
The night that the pugilist finally learned how to dance |