Through lines of lights the river glides,
Bestrewn with many a green-eyed ship,
And swiftly down the slinking tides
All night the heavy steamers slip.
Bright shone the moon when he slunk down,
A-sailing to some foreign parts,
Past Greenwich and past Gravesend Town,
And caring nought for broken hearts.
’Twas in July. He kissed and fled:
He stole my all and slipt to sea,