Several years ago I was at the VFW in Abilene and met a Vet named Albert Davis from Chicago. He was a sailor in WWII and moved west Texas to drive a Brinks truck for forty years. He was 85 years old and weighed about 120 pounds and was about 5’3” but when he danced, he could do the splits like Michael Jackson. He told me he had had about 3 heart attacks but if he died that night at least he’d die on the dance floor. A couple years later I learned from a friend of his named Mary that she had taken him to the VA hospital in Albuquerque for some tests and he went out to dance that Saturday night and when they came to his room on Sunday they found that he had passed away. So he didn’t die on the dance floor but it was pretty close.

Well I picked up my paper and I read the news
Bout a Vietnam Vet that beat the blues
Agent Orange laid him low
Doc said he had six months to go

He said I ain’t gonna’ take this layin’ down
Started jitter buggin’ all over town
I’m gonna’ rip it up, overflow my cup
Get up get down till I get my crown
Rockin’ and a boppin’ till they lay me down

Don’t you weep for me don’t be forlorn
Gonna’ bop till Gabriele blows his horn

Three years later he was gettin’ his groove
Boppin’ at the VFW
Crowd said he hollered out for more
Then dropped like a rock on that hardwood floor
Final words what you cryin’ for, at least I died on the dance floor

Don’t you weep for me
Don’t be forlorn
Think I hear Gabriele blowin’ that horn

Yeah, he ripped it up, overflowed his cup
Got up got down till he got his crown
Rockin’ and a boppin’ till they laid him down
Don’t you weep for him don’t be forlorn
He bopped till Gabrielle blew his horn