Columbia’s maids have tones as sweet,
And cheeks where snow and roses meet:
Such lips, and then, egad! such feet!
They are the girls to love, sir.
Oh! we are reefers bold and gay;
We brave the storm and court the fray,
Yet ne’er forget the girls away,
However far we rove, sir.
I sometimes fancy they’re decoys
To lure us on to fancied joys;