When she gives you a kiss
And calls you her “zolshier poy dear.”
Oh! isn't her blush like the roses?
And aren't her eyes like the stars?
And whenever she smiles
Don't you think you are miles
From the rattle and roar of the wars?
Would you take the three stars of a general
If she'd say “Leave the stars and take me?”
Oh! I've stolen sweet kisses from thousands of misses,