My young, black-eyed Fanny, my winsome, sweet Fanny,
My own darling Fanny, that waiteth for me.
Come, Selim! come, sluggard! speed swifter than this,
There are ripe, rosy lips that I’m dying to kiss;
And a dear little bosom will bound with delight,
When the star on thy forehead first glitters in sight.
My glad little Fanny! my arch, merry Fanny,
My graceful, fair Fanny, no star is so bright.
Then her soft, snowy arms round me fondly will twine,
And her warm, dewy lips will be pressed close to mine;