was the night before my gig when in my dressing room,
I felt familiar pangs of panic and doom.

My costume was hung by a dresser with care,
right next to my veils, my sword and fake hair.

Extra bra-padding was nestled snug in my bra,
while I envisioned my dancing that night at "Casbah".

The drummer, in his thobe and I, in my galebaya,
made our way towards the stage where we had been hired.

When out from the audience, I heard such a spill,
I dashed to the stage door and dropped all four zills.

Away to the backstage I flew like a flash,
tore open the curtain, tugging at my hip sash.

The mess was quite evident, as a waitress had poured
ganoush, and hummuous accidentally on the floor.

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
but my mentor, her teacher & a guy named Fakir.

The small group was quite lively, so happy and well,
that I knew my night’s show would have to be swell.

More rapid my heart than a drum solo it beat,
I waited for my cue, and stood flat on my feet.

Joyously the excitement from the crowd it came,
the audience whistled and shouted and called me a few names:

"Oh Yallah," and "Aiwa" they shouted with glee,
would Gia do a belly flutter and drop to her knees?

To the front of the stage, to table to the right,
I shimmied and lifted and dropped hips all night.

And then, in a whisper, my taqsim began,
I impressed my teacher and a family from Iran.

But as I drew a breath and was turning quite fast,
that same clumsy waitress returned again at last.

She was dressed all in black, from her hair to her feet
and I knew from her posture that she was carrying meat.

A tray full of kabobs she held high in the air,
while I try to appear to dance without care.

A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
gave me the false impression that I had nothing to dread.

I spoke not a word, but went to my finale,
t’was then that I realized I shouldn’t have dallied.

While receiving some tips, showered over my head,
I began to descend to the floor with some dread.

The waitress in black who stood in the back,
and smacked this poor dancer with meat in the back.

I sprang to my feet, now all covered with mezza
and bowed to audience, who were none the wiser.

Then they all heard me exclaim, as I shimmied out of sight,
"Enjoy the band…I’m calling it a night!"

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ONE AND ALL…
MAY ALL YOUR HOLIDAY GIGS BE MERRY AND ALL TIP WELL!