Little Madge - who loved to come dancing, but ended up all at sea

Little Madge, the story goes,
Was far from being Twinkletoes
She was a clumsy little creature
And quite dismayed her dancing teacher –
Who’d learnt her skills at Sadlers Wells
Then fell to teaching little ‘gals’
The finer points of ballet dancing–
But Madge was never good at prancing
To dance and jig she had no flair
Banana skins were always there –
She’d learn her steps, but soon forgot ‘em
And always ended on her bottom.
At skipping too, there was no hope
Poor Madge got tangled in the rope.
So all the girls at Madge’s school
Would hold her up to ridicule,
They’d cry “you’re such a clumsy clot!
And such a lovely mover – not!”
They were such horrid little dears
They often brought poor Madge to tears!
One night young Madge knelt by her bed
To say her prayers like Mummy said.
And in tearful desperation
She called her magical relation -
“Oh give me, please, a dance make-over
And make my legs like A. Pavlova -
I want to dance a sailor’s jig
Like Captain Cook upon his brig.
But most of all, instead of slipping
Please let me be the best at skipping.”
There was no camera there to prove
That Fairy Godma made her move -
But - of this - there is no doubt
She waved her wand with joyous shout
And in the twinkling of an eye
Twelve thousand miles did young Madge fly
To find herself the worthy Skipper
Of a South Sea Island clipper.