Monica Jean, Monica Jean.

My hero, my love, my goddess and queen.

You gripped all the eyes to you, dropped every jaw,

As you eased through the crowd and sailed on the floor.

I led and you followed, we cut a fine swathe.

Your sashay is perfect. In limelight we bathe.

The dance floor is clearing, they drop back in awe.

You courtsey in sequins. The crowd shout for more.

Monica Jean, Monica Jean,

Queen of the dance floor and partner supreme.

You've taken my heart with your glamour and tricks.

Next year I'll propose, when we both are six.