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As I walked out on Broadway, one evenin' in July,
I met a maid who asked my trade, "A Sailor John" said I.
Chorus
And away, you Santee, my dear Annie
Oh you New York girls, can't ya dance the polka?
To Tiffany's I took her, I did not mind expense,
I bought her two gold earrings, they cost me fifteen cents.
Sez she "You lime-juice sailor, Now take me home you may."
But when we reached her cabin door, she this to me did say:
"My flashman he's a Yankee, with his hair cut short behind,
He wears a pair of long sea boots, he’s a Bosun in the Black Ball
Line."
"He's homeward bound this evening, and with me he will stay.
And so be gone you sailor-boy, you'd best be on your way."
I kissed her hard and proper, afore her flashman came,
Said "Fare you well you Bowery girl, I knows yer little game."
I wrapped me glad rags around me, and to the docks did steer,
I'll never court another maid, I'll stick to me rum and beer.
I joined a Yankee blood-boat, and sailed away next morn,
Don't ever trust no Bowery gals, yer safer round Cape Horn.