For my summer, my lads, was gone too soon,
With a man’s heart gone to his head.
Ho, the heart of a man, etc.
In the Western seas I loved a miss,
As shy as the sharks that swim;
And it’s duties we owe to the art of the kiss—
Sing too rel le roo,
And the wine is red—
If a maiden so shy should be took with a whim,
And a man’s heart gone to his head.