Their nut-brown locks and their teeth so white,
The lasses were always my delight,
And I am the boy for them.
With my capering, tapering, twirling toe,
My billet-doux note or letter a;
My sighing—pining—whining—oh!
My person—eye—etcetera!
My taste is wondrous civil, too;
For mark, ye ladies, this—
There's nought you say, there's nought you do,