The Dance of the Sycophant

The little tin man
on the top of the music box
Will dance for you,
If you feed him a penny.
His face is familiar,
His grace is unmatched
And you’ve seen him dance before.
But oh, for a penny!
You can watch him whirl,
Tempered
Little
Steps.
Amended smile,
Eyes like a crocodile,
Spinning
And hitching
On the little metal track.
And when he’s finished,
The little tin man
Retreats.
Back from the top,
With a little rusted pop!
He opens up
The music box
And inside,
All the pennies,
Resting below
A little tin mirror
Reflecting,
A face you should know.