Peggy hath a squinting eye,
But no one knows at what it squinteth;
Right and left her glances fly,
But what they glance at, no one hinteth;
Sweeter ’tis to gaze upon
My Nancy’s roguish sloe-black peeper;
Few its looks, but every one
Strikes sly Cupid’s arrows deeper!
Oh, my black-eyed Nancy, dear!
My pretty, roguish black-eyed Nancy!