In the Roaring Twenties, when flappers were bold, And jazz music filled the air, stories untold, A dance craze arose, a rhythm so grand, The Charleston, it swept the land.
With skirts up high and spirits bright, The girls would gather, day and night, Their knees would kick, their heels would click, Their laughter echoing, a rhythmic flick.
In flapper dresses, adorned with beads, They’d twirl and sway, like wind-blown reeds, Their hair in bobs, their faces alight, The Charleston, a dance that took flight.
With every step, their spirits soared, Their worries and cares, they all ignored, The rhythm in their souls, a joyful beat, The Charleston, a dance oh so sweet.
From dance halls grand to streets so wide, The Charleston spread, with nothing to hide, A symbol of freedom, a spirit so free, The Charleston, a dance for all to see.
So let us raise our glasses high, To the girls who danced beneath the sky, With every step, they broke the mold, The Charleston, a story to be told.
