Down the coast, where the moon's called "Ja Kar",
And sweet breezes breed nights of romance,
In the rust bucket Port of Kar
Live some Urts with a passion for dance..............
On a barge filled with garbage they gather,
As day's last rosy rays fade to night,
And they dance, for there's nothing they'd rather
Than to boogie 'til dawning's first light.................
When the Urts of Port Kar go dancing,
And they do - any night there's a moon,
They begin with a kind of a trance thing,
Twirling 'round on their toes 'til they swoon........
Whisker deep in the papers and peelings,
Carefree Urts rediscover their joy.
Cerebration surrenders to feelings;
Paradise for Urt girl and Urt boy......................
To the Urt, dancing means self forgetting,
Never letting mere crap color life.
To let loose for an hour, and cease sweating
One's interminable ration of strife..................
When the PKs send you questions for answers,
And the Kurri are crowding your space,
May you dream of Port Kar's Urt dancers,
And wake up with a smile on your face......... 
