Soon they were dancing around the old wooden floor of Maggie May Records and yelling the rowdy chorus at the top of their lungs, like the two Irishmen who’d made the song famous.
“But I would walk five hundred miles / And I would walk five hundred more / Just to be the man who walked a thousand / Miles to fall down at your door.”
“Again,” Matt requested, following the last note.
“You have to kiss me first,” Maggie said, picking up the needle and gently placing it down again.
And he did.
But this time they never made it to the makeshift dance floor.
“Da-da da da (da-da da da) / Da-da da da (da-da da da) / Da-da dum!”
