"I work at the Palace Ballroom,
But gee, that Palace is cheap.
When I get back to my chilly apartment
I'm much too tired to sleep.

I'm one of those lady teachers,
A beautiful hostess, you know.
The kind the Palace features
At exactly a dime a throw.

Ten cents a dance,
That's what they pay me,
Gosh, how they wear me down!
Ten cents a dance,
Pansies and rough guys,
Tough guys who tear my gown.

Seven to midnight I hear drums,
Loudly the saxophone blows,
Trumpets are breaking my eardrums,
Customers crush my toes.

Sometimes I think I've found my hero,
But it's a queer old man.
All that you need is a ticket:
Come on, Big Boy, ten cents a dance!

Fighters and sailors and bowlegged tailors
Can pay for a ticket and rent me!
Butchers and barbers and rats from the harbor
And sweethearts my good luck has sent me!

Though I've a chorus of elderly beaus,
Stockings are porous with holes in the toes!
I'm dead at closing time!
Dance, sounding merry, it's only a dime!

(Refrain)"

-- Lorenz Hart, Lyricist, Ten Cents A Dance as sung by Ruth Etting, in 1930.