And prowl beneath dim balconies and twang discreet guitars,
And sigh our adoration to Don Juan's lovely daughters
Till they lifted their mantillas and their dark eyes shone like stars.
We would cruise by fairy islands where the gaudy parrot screeches
And the turtle in his soup-tureen floats basking in the calms;
We would see the fire-flies winking in the bush above the beaches
And a moon of honey yellow drifting up behind the palms.
We would crown ourselves with garlands and tread a frolic measure
With the nut-brown island beauties in the firelight by the huts;
We would give them rum and kisses; we would hunt for pirate treasure,