 | Sea Songs |  |
90
SHE'S SWEETER TO ME THAN THE BEST OF THEM ALL.
Their gipsies of Donnas, Spain's Dons well may love;
Your Cubans, their Creoles, rank all belles above;
I've heard messmates say that you have not a chance
Of keeping quite cool near the charmers of France;
The Signors of Naples and Venice may fall
At the feet of Signoras whom matchless they call,
But, up with your glass,
I know a dear lass
That's sweeter to me than the best of them all.
Your Cubans, their Creoles, rank all belles above;
I've heard messmates say that you have not a chance
Of keeping quite cool near the charmers of France;
The Signors of Naples and Venice may fall
At the feet of Signoras whom matchless they call,
But, up with your glass,
I know a dear lass
That's sweeter to me than the best of them all.
For twenty rough years, I've been boxing about;
All ports of the wide world, I've been in and out;
North and South, East and West, from New York to Hong Kong,
And I've glimpsed all the charmers, to each, that belong;
There are sweet ones in all at whose feet one could fall;
Dane, Turk, South Sea brownie, you beauties may call;
But, up with your glass,
Here's the English dear lass
That's sweeter to me than the best of them all.
All ports of the wide world, I've been in and out;
North and South, East and West, from New York to Hong Kong,
And I've glimpsed all the charmers, to each, that belong;
There are sweet ones in all at whose feet one could fall;
Dane, Turk, South Sea brownie, you beauties may call;
But, up with your glass,
Here's the English dear lass
That's sweeter to me than the best of them all.
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